Finding William
by TrthIsOutThere
Summary: Scully feels incomplete. She needs William, so she goes to find him. Rated T as always to be safe. Please R&R!
1. Prologue: Don't Give Up

I'm going to try to make almost every chapter title a quote from IWTB, but there's a few chapters where that may not be possible, but we'll see. Also, I'm working hard on trying to finish "Let Me Die, So That You May Live." It's just that "Finding William" has started to monopolize my time. I've already thought it through so it will probably get completed before the other, but don't worry...I'm still working on it. So...enjoy! R&R! Please...I love reviews. haha I've had a lot of trouble getting this chapter to look right. Hopefully it's right this time.

* * *

_The medical mask hung around her neck as she scrubbed in before the last procedure. Christian Fearon had weathered through so much at her insistence. It was, after all, her job as his primary physician to see that he was helped, but the boy was no more than ten years old. The nurses wheeled him into the operating theatre and he looked up at her like he did prior to every procedure. "Thank you, Dr. Scully," was all he said to her this time._ "_Don't give up." The words echoed in her head as her face went slack at the boy's bravery. No one involved could know whether or not these radical procedures would work, but he still thanked her every time. He knew that she would do all she could for him. _

_For William. _

_That was the real reason she would do all she could to save this boy. The connection she felt with her son overwhelmed her when she looked at Christian. _If you were a mother, you would understand_. Mrs. Fearon had said that to Scully prior to beginning these procedures, not wanting to continue with the painful procedures. At first, Scully had brushed it off as if she really could not understand what the other woman was feeling. Finally, she had vaguely let on to her secret after the second procedure, after Mulder had promised to take her away when it was all done, after her faith in the unknown was reaffirmed. She could not help but feel that healing this boy would give her hope about finding her son again and easing the pain left by the hole that even Mulder could not fill._

"_Dr. Scully?" the nurse's voice finally managed to break through her reverie. _

_She looked around the operating room at the team that was breaking medical history. Christian looked up at Scully as they began anesthetizing him. The nurse helped her into her gloves and she pulled the medical mask onto her face and fitted the metal band around her nose. Scully reached down and held Christian's small hand in hers. She said a small prayer as his eyes rolled back into his head. It was the same prayer every time._

Bless this little boy, oh Lord, for without him I would be lost in this world again.


	2. I Think The Darkness Finds You

The warm sun beat down on her body as she drifted in and out of sleep. The towel beneath her was hot from the sun; the sand beneath it had begun to cool off. The only sound around them in their temporary residence was the crashing of the waves thirty feet away. Beside her, her partner of nearly sixteen years, her best friend and confidant, breathed deeply. As she drifted in and out of consciousness, she dreamt of the painful procedures she had put that poor boy through every time her eyes closed. Mulder had been right about the darkness following them, but it was Mrs. Fearon's words that haunted her the most. _If you were a mother, you would understand. _She did understand. It could never hurt her if she did not understand. She understood because of her son. Because of William.

She had wanted to be a mother for so long, the drive growing exponentially when she found out she was not able to have children. Then as if in a dream, she was told she was pregnant and she went numb. She was going to be a mother and the man she loved was the father. But that perfect life was inevitably shattered as the man she loved disappeared and her miracle child was forced out of her life. Her world crashed to the ground so violently that it took her far too long to climb back out of the hole. She was still just shy of breaching it.

Dana Scully sat up and looked around. Her heart broke in that instant and silent tears streamed down her face. She readjusted the towel beneath her and lay on her stomach and turned her face away from Mulder and continued to cry for the next few hours. It was time to go home.

* * *

This is super short. I apologize.


	3. Two People Who Come Home At Night

Five Days Later

Dana Scully and Fox Mulder stepped through their front door as the time closed in on 11:30 at night. The late spring Virginia weather was humid and it clung to them like a wet blanket. The temperature the next day would be closing in on the upper-eighties. Luckily they were not returning from their four month long vacation to the snow and ice they had left from. The house, normally in a static state of organized chaos, was cleaned and orderly. Even the dust was gone. Scully knew instantly that her mother had been by and cleaned a few days before so that they returned to a clean home. She would not be surprised at all if her mother was still there.

Mulder shifted by behind Scully as she paused in the doorway. The house smelled unlived in. Then again, it had been four months since they were last occupying it. Mulder paused a few steps inside, noticing the same thing. He looked at her and smiled, leaning over and placing a soft kiss on her lips. He didn't have to say anything, she knew he was saying, "Welcome home." They had that ability, that understanding with each other. They rarely had to say things to each other. They just knew what the other was thinking. She smiled and then looked away as she bent her knees slightly to drop a duffle bag on the floor. She walked between the furniture habitually and dropped her purse on the end table between the two worn chairs, and laid her keys down next to it. She looked curiously at the kitchen as she unzipped her light jacket. There was something about the kitchen…

She walked across the dining area and into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and smiled as she saw its contents. Her mother had been by very recently…the fridge had been completely restocked, including a meal waiting to be cooked. The baking instructions were taped to the foil. Mulder had made his way into his office and she heard him laugh. He joined her in the kitchen his hands full with a stack of newspapers. He held one up with a headline about research in ESP studies. "Your mom is my hero, Scully. There's a whole stack of these on my desk."

Scully smiled again, closing the refrigerator door. "She loves you too much, Mulder. I had asked her to stop feeding your obsession." Her eye caught a note held onto the door by a Singulair advertisement magnet. _Dana, I put together a casserole and left it in the refrigerator. Heating instructions are taped to it. I'm so glad that you and Fox decided to return home! I'll be by the day after you get back to see you. I've missed you both so much! Love, Mom._ Scully took the note off the door and showed Mulder. He put his hand on his heart and pretended to feel faint.

"Be still my heart, I'm in love." He smiled and Scully shook her head. A smile spread slowly across her features, despite her best efforts to remain stoic.

"Can your swelling heart go through the mail accumulation on the table while I start heating this casserole?" They had been traveling the whole day and had not had a satisfying meal for nearly sixteen hours. Looking slightly indecisive, she opened the door again and pulled out the casserole. She walked over to the oven and set the pan down on the counter as she began to preheat the oven.

Mulder glanced over his shoulder at the dining room table. Mulder and Scully had left a check book for Maggie Scully to use. They had told her to use it to pay bills that came in the mail, if there were any at all. Maggie had volunteered to drop by the house at least twice a week to feed Mulder's fish, to pick up a little, and to get the mail. The table was organized into piles. Unopened mail sat on one end and the fat stacks were bound by rubber bands. In the center, in front of one of the chairs, sat the checkbook and all the receipts from the bills Maggie had paid.

Mulder turned back toward the kitchen and walked up behind Scully and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. She stretched her fingers as she was pulled just out of reach of the controls on the oven. She shivered from the feeling of his breath on her neck as he whispered in her ear. "Your wish is my command, milady." She smiled and reached up, placing her hand on Mulder's cheek and then turned her head to place a chaste kiss on his lips. She knew that his comment was not limited to performing household chores. He released her and she went back to preheating the oven. As she listened to Mulder shuffle through the mail, she leaned against the counter, her eyes not seeing anything around her. Her mind was thousands of miles away.

Her mind was on William.

* * *

The next day, Scully woke up wrapped tightly in Mulder's arms on the couch. The television was still on. After they had eaten, they were so tired they decided that they could only make it to the couch. They fell asleep with an old movie on, but when Scully awoke to the sounds of moaning and she quickly grabbed the remote and shut of the television, dampening the momentary flash of anger at herself for not noticing that Mulder had turned on his late night entertainment after she had fallen asleep.

The T.V. was not what woke her up though. A car was making its way up their driveway.

Scully sat up slowly and looked at Mulder's peaceful features. Ever since they had begun living together, he had slept so much better, his insomnia ceasing when Scully was by his side. Sometimes at night she felt like she protected him more than he did her. It made her laugh. She brushed his hair back and shook him gently. "Mulder," she said gently. "Mulder, my mom's here."

Mulder grumbled at her. "Five more minutes, Scully."

Scully stood and kicked the couch. That seemed to work with Mulder every now and then. "Mulder," she said forcefully. "My mom is pulling up right now." She heard the key scraping the inside of the lock on the door and Mulder was up instantly, reaching for the invisible gun on the side table. Scully raised her eyebrow at him and put her hands on her hips until he finally met her slightly amused gaze. As the door opened, Scully bent down and picked up the shirt and pants he had abandoned seeking comfort the night before and threw them at his face.

Maggie Scully stepped through the front door and caught Mulder clumsily trying to pull on his clothes over his boxers and she hid a smile by looking down to put her purse on the floor by the door. The fact that her daughter's face was not red with embarrassment told her that she had not interrupted anything when she arrived. Mulder was just being Mulder. Scully immediately went to her mother and embraced her tightly for a long time. Finally, her mother pushed her back and held her face in her hands. "Oh, sweetheart, I've missed you both so much." She pulled Scully's face to her and kissed her forehead. "You look too tan for a red-head," Maggie said.

Scully smiled and pulled her mother's hands from her face. Maggie immediately caught on to Scully's mood, which had been considerably dragged down over the last few days when she continually thought of her son. Maggie didn't get a chance to say anything. Scully wanted to keep it that way. "I missed you too, Mom."

Mulder was finally at her side and fully clothed. He embraced Maggie as well. "Sorry for the reverse strip tease when you came in." He pulled away and blushed slightly.

Maggie smiled. "It's alright, Fox." She motioned excitedly toward the living room furniture. "Sit! Sit! Tell me about the vacation…"


	4. Our Son Left A Hole

Later that night, Scully lay in her own bed finally after so long. She sat propped up against the headboard with a stack of medical journals sitting between her and Mulder, most of them detailing experimental procedures on Sandhoff's disease. On top of the journals sat a stack of envelopes from some of the same journals asking her to write an extensive review and report on her work she had done on Christian Fearon. On her lap sat a laptop and she stared at the introduction of her article. She had decided she would take care of contacting the team of doctors she had worked with the next day.

Or the day after.

Or whenever she got around to it.

Her thoughts continued to dwell on her son. She knew that her mother had noticed the look on her face. She had managed to avoid the conversation with her mother the whole day, even when they were stuck in the kitchen together while Mulder had gone out to check on the barn and the land around the house. Maggie had tried to question her mood, but Scully had smiled and played it off with her prepared story of how tired she was from traveling still. She sighed and shut the lid of the computer.

Mulder stirred from his light sleep beside her and propped himself up on his elbows. "What's wrong, Scully?" She could hide all she wanted from her mother, but there was no where to run from Mulder.

She smiled and moved the articles, letters and computer to the floor beside the bed. "I've just been thinking constantly about Christian the last few days."

"Ah," Mulder said and nodded. "You can stop worrying about him, Scully. You left him in good hands."

Scully finally looked at him and smirked. She reached out and rubbed his bare back, leaning her head back against the headboard. "I wish it was that simple, Mulder."

Mulder's eyes held an understanding. "The hole is still there, isn't it, Scully?"

She nodded without looking at him and she felt him shift up to a sitting position. He pulled her close to him. "Helping Christian didn't bring me the closure I was looking for, Mulder." Her head softly landed on his chest and she played with the hem of the duvet spread over both of them. She wiped the stray tear from her cheek. "It's becoming a day-to-day struggle emotionally." Her eyes began to cloud over despite her best efforts to remain emotionless. Mulder pulled her closer and she wrapped her arms around his waist tightly as the tears started to fall silently down her face. Mulder rested his chin on her head and ran his fingers through her hair and told her everything would be okay. His mind wandered to when they had been in Oregon at the call of Billy Miles, before Scully even knew she was pregnant with their son. He thought about how natural Scully had been with Theresa Hoese's son, how content she was caring for the child. Scully needed William and she was dying inside with him not there. Scully sat up and looked into Mulder's hazel eyes. "I need my mom."

Mulder smiled and nodded. "We're just so fortunate enough that she decided to stay the night."

Scully slipped out of their bed and walked down the hallway to where her mother was sleeping. She crossed her arms over her chest against the cool night and slowly pushed the door open to the guest bedroom. "Mom?" she asked quietly into the dark. "Mom? Are you awake?"

Maggie rolled over sleepily, instantly alerted by her daughter's smaller-than-normal voice. "Dana? What is it? Are you okay, sweetheart?" She sat up wide awake. "Turn on the light, Dana."

Scully flipped the switch by the door and walked into the room and sat beside her mom. She could not hold the tears and sobs back any more. Without question Maggie pulled her close and rocked her back and forth. Mulder appeared in the door and mouthed, "William," before continuing downstairs for his midnight snack. "What's wrong, Dana?"

Scully sat back and made a futile attempt to wipe away the tears cascading down her cheeks. "My son, Mom. I can't handle this anymore."

"Oh, sweetheart," Maggie said, brushing the hair back from Scully's face. "It isn't supposed to be easy. After a while, you stop thinking about it." Scully immediately knew that her mother was talking about Melissa.

Scully frowned and sniffed. "Mom, it's not the same. He didn't _die._ He's alive somewhere. It's killing me, Mom."

Maggie nodded and squeezed her arm. "I wish I could take away the sting, sweetheart. I don't think that there is anything that anyone can say though."

Scully sighed, the action big enough to cause her shoulders to rise and fall dramatically. She shook her head, angry. "He was my one chance, Mom. I'm supposed to be sending him to first grade in the fall. He is turning six next month."

"We can't always ask God to plan our lives how we want them to be," Maggie said. She paused as Scully shot her a sideways glance. She knew what her daughter was thinking. _God shouldn't tease people either_. "What about the request you put in for his academic progress to Child Services?"

"The request has been processing for nearly a year now," Scully said. "They won't even give me that. They deemed me as an unsuitable parent." She stood up and paced back and forth beside the bed. "Apparently, if I get a progress report I'll be able to find him. Let's just forget that I used to work for the FBI." She threw her hands up in the air in frustration. She sat down defeated. "If I could just find closure for that chapter on my life, I could move on. Knowing that he is out there somewhere, growing up in someone else's house…it drives me crazy." She finally met her mother's eyes again. "Working at the hospital does nothing either. I get put in pediatrics too often."

"And you extended the life of a little boy by an extraordinary length, Dana," Maggie said. "You can't lose sight of things like that. They put you in pediatrics because you do so well with children, Dana."

Scully nodded. Her mother would understand how losing William turned into a physical pain. When her heart broke, it _broke_ and it hurt every where. She saw children every where with their mothers and the pain tore through her like a bullet. She could not explain to her how much it itched when she knew that William was still alive somewhere nor could she explain the emotional connection she had with her son. Scully had spent too much time chasing paranormal phenomena to discount that her random bouts of depression were caused by her son. She would be walking through the dark hallways of Our Lady of Sorrows Catholic Hospital and have to quickly jump into her office so no one would see her tears. There was no explaining them, so if her colleagues questioned her she would never be able to tell them that something was wrong. Scully made up her mind then and there.

She was going to find William.

* * *

A/N: So I'm not that great at writing emotional things...I hope it comes across okay.


	5. It's Your Insight I Need

I'm not sure how much I like this chapter, but it was necessary to stick with what I had written later on. I'm trying to keep it all together. Plus I just love Reyes and Doggett, so I needed them to be introduced at some point. And it has a good MSR moment. They will have roles later on as well.

* * *

Two days later, Mulder drove with Scully down I-66 into Washington, DC. Their friends, John Doggett and Monica Reyes, had called Mulder asking for help in a case they had just pushed across their desks. John had made it sound as if someone was making fun of them and all their work on the X-Files. People would smirk at them as they walked down the hall, while worry lines etched in their face. With Mulder coming into the FBI again not even six months after the controversial psychic case featuring the pedophile priest Father Joe Crissman, there was sure to be an eyebrow or two raised in John and Monica's direction. Scully had agreed to stop by, "for old time's sake."

They parked the car nearly a block away from the Hoover Building in an underground garage. Mulder was dressed in a suit, more to make a good impression for John and Monica than for the other agents working in the building. His tie hung around his neck and the collar of his shirt was popped up. Scully watched as he tried to tie the tie around his neck. She smiled and told him to walk over to her. She tied his tie for him and folded his collar down, allowing her hands to linger on his shoulders before they found their way to his face. Mulder smiled at her, but pulled her hands down, keeping a soft hold on one and leading her out of the garage.

The walk to the building from the garage was excellent. The weather still wasn't excruciatingly hot in the District, but a light breeze warmed the sidewalk and all the other bureaucratic employees that walked briskly to and from federal buildings. Mulder reminisced about the days when it had been him running from one place to another. They finally reached the visitor's entrance to the Hoover Building. They pulled out their two forms of identification and received their visitor badges, but not without a sarcastic smile from the person behind the desk.

"Welcome back, Agents," the woman said, trying to hide a smirk. "Don't worry the basement hasn't moved since the last time you were here." Obviously, word about his involvement with the pedophile priest had gotten around. "Spooky" Mulder was back in business.

Mulder gave her a fake laugh, but only Scully knew it had been faked. "Alright, good because I wasn't sure." His laughter ceased immediately and he gave the woman a pointed look. "We still go down to get there right?"

The woman's smirk fell from her face. "Be sure to return the pass when you leave."

Mulder held it up in front of her and smiled. "I've got eight more just like this at home."

Scully pulled his arm. She hadn't thought the woman funny either, but she would have never let on to that. "Come on, Mulder." As they walked further into the building, Mulder mumbled under his breath. They passed by a large picture of President Barack Obama and Mulder rolled his eyes. Scully knew he was remembering that the last time he had actually been employed and worked in the Hoover Building, all offices sported photos of Bill Clinton.

"Scully, did you know that his name isn't even Barack? It's Barry," He looked at her and raised his eyebrow.

"Better open an investigation on him then, shouldn't you, Spooky?" Someone passing by snickered at Mulder.

Mulder released a loud exasperated sigh and stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. "I dare _one_ more person to make a comment about my work on the X-Files." Scully was embarrassed, her eyes wandering the faces of people who walked by nervously. Mulder's temper preceded him more than his work did and everyone averted their gaze and continued walking. Once Mulder was satisfied, he reached down and took Scully's hand in his own, almost protectively. Her small hand fit perfectly in his, and she knew that it was a physical reminder that his last string of sanity was right beside him. He looked at her as he pressed the button of the elevator and then dug his free hand into the pocket of his pants. "I only did that for you, Scully. They should know how to behave in the presence of a lady."

Scully's trademark eyebrow shot up on her forehead. "Oh, aren't you a stud, Mulder?"

He pressed the button for the basement and smiled. When the doors were shut, he pretended to fix his hair in his muddled reflection on the doors. "I'd like to think that's how I wrangled you into sticking with me for so long."

She looked up at his eyes with the hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Almost sixteen years together, Mulder, and there are just some things you say that never cease to amaze me."

He met her gaze and smiled back. "And that's why you love me, Scully. I keep things interesting."

Scully's eyebrow rose on her forehead again and she looked forward as the doors open. _That you do, Mulder. That you do_, she thought to herself. She stepped out of the elevator and was immediately hit by the musty smell of the Hoover Basement. It had been years since she last entered this part of the building. Mulder felt the same way. His stomach wanted to do excited back flips in his abdomen. He could just smell the conspiracy and unexplained phenomena in the air. It made their skin itch to experience the danger and action again. They rounded the corner and could hear two familiar voices bickering inside a room another few feet down the hall.

Mulder leaned close to Scully's ear, whispering, "It must be something about the mold down here." She knew he was referring to the couple's bickering. To any regular bystander, it sounded like a full-fledged differing of opinions, but to the two experts that started it all, it was nothing but lovers' bickering between two people who complimented each other perfectly. They just hadn't settled on a theory that could satisfy them both and it made them unable to stand being near each other most of the time, but they would have been lost without the other there.

Mulder and Scully peeked around the corner to see in the office. Inside, Monica Reyes stood with her hands on her hips, not wanting to back down. John Doggett was gesturing with his hands, trying to explain to her that she was making no sense. The basement did things to people. Scully had pinned it to the fact that she only really ever saw one other person every day when she came to work. It didn't help when that was the only person she saw outside of work as well. "Till death do us part" can be applied to more than one kind of union of souls. They stepped into the office and waited for John and Monica to see them.

Finally, Mulder cleared his throat and smiled. Scully folded her arms across her chest and her eyebrow rose again, but her face was amused. John and Monica's arguing ceased and they turned to regard their friends slowly. "Trouble in paradise?" Mulder asked.

Monica picked a folder and held it out for him to take. "It depends on what you call paradise." Mulder took the file and read over it, Scully looking over his arm with a frown creasing her forehead. "New Orleans."

"Taking you back to your roots," Mulder mused, referring to her work in the New Orleans field office.

"Now _that_ depends on who you ask about this case," Monica said, casting a sideways glance at Doggett. He shook his head at her. "_I _can identify blood-letting ritualistic characteristics of these killings, but John…he just swears by the explanation of vampires."

Mulder and Scully raised their eyes at them both in surprise. They had had a complete role reversal over this case. Monica was usually the one to draw paranormal conclusions; Doggett would try to direct her to a more plausible conclusion. Mulder and Scully looked at each other and exchanged surprised glances. Mulder closed the file and put it on the desk. "We've seen these types of cases before, normally in and out. Just close the case for the local law enforcement."

"But what do you think it is?" Doggett asked. "We've been deflecting the locals' cries for help for nearly three days because we can't come to a conclusion on our end."

"In my opinion," Scully said. "You should go and investigate, but deem it unsolvable. Make no mention of vampires. Just record it in the files." She walked to a set of cabinets. Her heart lurched at the scorch marks and dents on the outside, remembering the attempt to shut the X-Files down for good. It had marked the forced closing of an important chapter in their lives. She opened a drawer in the middle and flipped through the files. Finding the one she was looking for, she pulled it out and quickly shut the drawer and shut out the memories that came with it. She handed the file, with charred edges of its own, to Monica. Not many things had survived the office fire, but many things had been salvaged.

"Cheney, Texas?" Mulder asked. Scully nodded. He looked at Monica and Doggett. "Prime example of real vampirism. Compare and contrast."

"That's it?" Doggett asked. "That's all you're going to give us?"

"That's all you need," Mulder said. "You can't determine much from pictures and a story. You have to go and investigate." Mulder paused and saw something in Monica and Doggett's face. They looked uncomfortable. "Unless there's more to the reason you asked us to come down here."

The two agents exchanged glances and Monica nodded. "They're shutting us down," Doggett said.

"What?" Scully asked.

"Why?" Mulder asked simultaneously.

"They said that we're not doing the job we were supposed to be doing," Monica said. "The deal was to keep us open to prove the use of the division. We haven't found that groundbreaking case and now they're saying we're wasting FBI resources and money."

"Haven't they realized yet that groundbreaking cases aren't just sitting around waiting for us?" Mulder asked. "The X-Files are always said to be a waste of time and money. That's nothing new."

Doggett and Monica shrugged. "We've been working hard to find that case," Monica said. "We even tried to use the Brady Bunch case as an example to show why we needed to keep working."

Mulder looked at Scully. "Brady Bunch?"

Scully acknowledged him with a nod. "Psychokinesis," she said quietly and as if it was not something that needed to be discussed at the time, but she continued. "Oliver Martin could imagine places and they would appear. His house looked like an exact replica of the Brady Bunch house on the inside when he wanted it to. But his ability was detrimental. It was killing him slowly the more he used it. We couldn't allow him to do that for our gain."

"They destroyed every file about the invasion, now they want to pack away the rest as if they don't matter," Mulder said. The hurt was evident on his face. He looked at Doggett and Monica. "You did your jobs. Don't let them make you feel differently."

"We had already told you that we came into this office ready to give our best," Monica said. "I can't say that has changed." She was silent for a minute. "How was the vacation?"

"Beachy," Mulder said. "Sunny."

Scully shook her head. "How descriptive, Mulder." She looked at Monica. "It was great. Barely any cloudy days. We had a house right on the beach and our own private stretch of beach. We definitely needed to do it, but I'm glad we're back now. Four months is just too long of a time to be gone."

"The glamorous life of fugitives," Monica said.

"Mmm…" Mulder said, his lips stretching into a tight smile. "I'm standing in FBI headquarters. Forgiven, not forgotten. For help on one case." He shook his head, still not completely sure that the FBI really had forgotten his "transgressions."

Doggett's stomach grumbled on cue. "How's about a walk to 7th street for lunch?"

"Not today," Scully said. "I have to go visit a friend at Children's."

Doggett held up the file Scully had pulled out of the cabinet. "Well, that works out perfectly because we have to go over this classified case. Vampires."

Scully smiled. She and Mulder said their goodbyes and left the office. They slipped their visitor badges into their pockets and moved quickly out of the building, smiling at each other as they walked out into the mid-day heat.


	6. Hi, Christian how are you feeling?

Children's Hospital is in fact one of the worst hospital floor plans in existence. I hate going there, mainly because the floor to ceiling windows and the actual floor of the cafeteria hang out slightly over the rest of the building and it's probably five stories in the air. It's so frightening. But that's beside the point. The last time I was there, there was in fact a Mickey Mouse thing or Disney thing signed by Jennifer Garner in the lobby. It may not be there still. I only remember because, at the time, I was completely obsessed with Alias. I didn't realize that Chris Carter and Frank Spotnitz had named Christian's parents, but IMDB informed me otherwise. So Margaret and Blair are their real names. I'm working on the next chapter, but I don't like Father Ybarra, so writing him is presenting a problem. Anyway, R&R!!!

* * *

Scully had never liked Children's Hospital. Most hospitals had complicated floor plans and Children's was no exception. Mulder had told her that it was a conspiracy between doctors and architects. She had told him that she never wanted to hear the explanation of that theory. She also pointed out that she was not privy to any conspiracy and that if it was true, she should be. He had just shrugged and told her to suit herself, but asked her if she had noticed that the better the hospital, the more complicated its hallways were as she left his office.

She stepped off the last escalator and rounded the corner into the lobby. The ceilings were tall, two or three stories above her head. Everything looked like it had poured from an eight-pack of Crayola crayons. Most pieces of furniture were shaped geometrically. Apparently, it appealed to children. On one side of the lobby, a Mickey Mouse figure stood and had been endorsed by Jennifer Garner. Scully had never paid too much attention to it and had really just heard who she assumed was a patient's sibling mention that the actress's signature was on the base. She had assumed that it was some charitable function that Disney sponsored.

Walking up to the desk, she felt slightly out of place. Normally, she was running in with patient files in hand and a white coat on over her clothes, trying to find a specialist's office. Today she came in looking like a concerned family member and she had Mulder with her. She leaned against the counter to speak to the receptionist. She looked up expectantly at Scully. "I'm Dr. Scully…"

"Dr. _Dana _Scully?" The receptionist cut her off quickly.

Scully was thrown off. "Yes, Dana Scully. I came to see…"

"Christian Fearon," the receptionist said, nodding. She smiled tightly and held up a green Post-It. Scully could see her name and an arrow pointing to Christian's name scribbled down on the paper in quick print. Another doctor's signature was at the bottom, but she could not make out the name. "Someone will be down in a minute to get you."

Scully raised her eyebrows in surprise. Mulder leaned down and whispered in her ear. "Special treatment?" he asked.

"I _did_ successfully complete an experimental stem cell procedure," she whispered, none-too-modestly. "And yielded positive results."

"Pardon me, doc, but do you have any grey Poupon?" Mulder frowned at her strange bout of egotism.

"Stop it, Mulder," she said. Shortly after, a familiar face entered the lobby. Scully stood up and smiled at Margaret Fearon. They embraced each other warmly.

"Dana, it's so nice to finally see you again," the other woman said.

Scully nodded, grabbing Mulder's arm and pulling him up beside her. "Margie, this is my…husband, Fox Mulder." She hated calling Mulder that. Partner, lover, best friend, confidant…these were all terms that only they could truly understand the significance of. Anyone outside that did not know them would not understand anything else aside from "husband." He filled that role, but that was not quite his title.

Mulder shook hands with the other woman. "It's nice to finally put a face to a name," he told her.

"Well, it's nice to finally put a name to the mystery man in the halls at Our Lady of Sorrows."

Mulder nodded. "I'm actually a convicted voyeur. Don't tell anyone."

Margie smiled. "That would make things very awkward. Your secret is safe with me. I hope you both had a wonderful vacation."

Scully nodded again. "You were all constantly in my thoughts while I was gone. I hope that you've been receiving adequate care."

Mrs. Fearon's eyes widened. "Adequate is…an understatement. Phenomenal is a more accurate description." What a choice of words. She motioned back down the hallway she had come from. "He's been waiting to see you. You're all he talks about."

Scully smiled and motioned for her to lead the way. After a short walk, they emerged into the long term care section. Scully felt a pang of guilt. Her intended purpose was to get Christian out of hospitals. _Don't give up_. Margie led them into a room where a young brown haired boy was sitting on the floor in a t-shirt and pajama pants watching television.

"Christian," Margie said softly. "You have some visitors."

Christian turned and looked at Scully and his eyes lit up. He crawled over to the bed and pulled himself onto it. "Hi, Dr. Scully!" His speech was still inhibited and slow, but it was getting better.

Scully could not help but smile. "Hi, Christian." She combed her hand through his hair and then rested it on his cheek. "How are you?"

"Good," he said, his eyebrow twitching. He looked at Mulder. "Who is that?"

Scully looked at Mulder and smiled. "Christian, this is my very good friend, Mr. Mulder. He's wanted to meet you for a long time."

Christian's eyes locked on Mulder, observing him intently. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Mulder."

Mulder smiled. "It's very nice to meet you, Christian. What have they been making you do here?"

He held up his leg and pulled the pant leg back, revealing braces. "I'm learning how to walk."

"Really?" Mulder asked. "Can you show me?"

The boy nodded slowly, but eagerly. He reached out for Scully's hands and gripped them tightly. "Okay, Dr. Scully, hold on."

Scully took a step backwards from the bed. "You can count on it." She held his small hands in hers as he slid off the bed onto unsure feet. Scully stepped backwards and Christian took a wobbly step towards her. Tears stung the back of her eyes as her thoughts jumped back to her son. Christian took another wobbly, off-balance step toward Scully. She smiled. They walked this way all the way to the wall. When Scully ran out of room, she pulled Christian into an embrace. She hugged him tightly and laughed. "Christian! I'm so proud of you! That was excellent!"

Christian's eyes were bright and he laughed. "They teach me a lot here."

Scully feigned surprise. "I see that." Her voice lowered. "Is the food better here than at Our Lady of Sorrows?" She helped him turn around and held his hands at should height. They walked back over to the bed where he grabbed on to the frame for stability. He gave an awkward shrug, as if the motion was still new to him.

"It's okay. I'm just glad that no one here stares like Father Ybarra."

Scully nodded in agreement. "I'm glad for that too." She looked at the boy's mother. "I hope that he's out of the hospital soon. This was never what I had intended to happen when we went into this."

Margie waved it away. "He's happy and he's healthy. That's all I can ask for. If they have to keep him here to help him during follow up, that's fine."

"I'm sure the free hospital stay is an added bonus," Mulder said.

"Most of the time," Margie agreed with a smile. "Blair just likes sleeping on the expensive mattresses at the Ronald McDonald house," she said referring to her husband.

Scully smiled and watched Christian crawl back over to the television. She felt a tugging in her heart and had to push back tears in her eyes. Her mind was hundreds of miles away again. Somewhere, her son was probably running around a school yard during recess. Her perfect little boy. Wherever he was at the moment, he was happy and Scully desperately wanted to be happy as well, but she could only be so happy while she was dying inside.

* * *

Later that night, Scully lay awake in bed into the small hours of the morning. Mulder breathed deeply beside her. Now was as good a time as any. When he woke up and found her gone, he would just think that she was called in to cover someone's shift at Our Lady of Sorrows. She felt her way to the closet and began to throw clothes in a duffle bag that had not been put away from their previous trip. She changed into a pair of jeans and a light t-shirt and then walked over to Mulder. He was sleeping peacefully, as if he had no care in the world. He had always slept like that, and Scully envied him. She felt that even in her sleep, her face showed how she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Bending down over him, she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. _I'll be home soon_, she thought to him.


	7. Our Lady of Sorrows

**I don't X-Files...**

A/N: Just a few notes...I can't remember if it was established on the show that Mulder had inherited money or if that was a detail someone made up in another fic. So I apologize if I ran with someone's (or someones') idea. And I apologize if people have been waiting for this to update. I thought I had already posted this chapter.

* * *

Scully stalked quietly through the dull, brown hallways of the Catholic hospital to which she had devoted the last six years of her life. Now that she actually stood back and thought about it, she could not remember what it was that had drawn her to the front doors. Due to her black-listed record at the FBI, finding any work at all had become the most grueling task. She would have taken nearly anything. Scully wanted to work. She couldn't sit at home all day long and do nothing. It was Mulder's savings that had allowed her to work in a non-profit hospital making substantially less than she had at the FBI. Mulder had taken what money he had (which was far from a small amount, having inherited all the money from his wealthy grandparents) and began investing, allowing them to live comfortably and to go on such a long trip. He had really only touched it twice; once to buy the house and once to make an emergency trip to Antarctica.

Finding work had been a long process. Every hospital within the immediate area of their house saw her black mark and turned her away immediately. She was never the one charged with murder, yet that aiding and abetting conviction and other than honorable discharge from the FBI caused everyone to cringe and turn her away quickly. Now those same hospitals all wanted her to work for them after her success with Christian. How ironic.

Our Lady of Sorrows had called to her. It was nearly an hour's drive from their house, but she managed and she had come to enjoy the drive. It kept her and Mulder at arms' length for most of the week, but when they finally saw each other after long absences, they were able to enjoy it so much more. The facility was close to inadequate and funding was low, but she couldn't shake the magnetic pull she felt from the building. She wanted to go back to helping people. Even though she had come to terms that her father was in fact proud of her no matter what career she pursued, working as a doctor put her at ease after so many years of guilt. She was finally the doctor her Ahab had always wanted her to be.

Her first meeting with Father Ybarra had been horrible. He was a little man with the Napoleon syndrome and he expressed it through his constant condescending tone. Her hand had found its way to the gold cross around her neck and she was silently urged to pursue. Once she began working, he was always on her about one thing or another, making sure she was never out of line. She never complained once, but merely observed that he never hounded the other doctors the same way he did her. She dismissed it and thought that was just how she would be treated for the rest of her life. Like a criminal prone to recidivism. Her black mark must have been scribbled on her forehead with permanent marker while she slept. Once she met Christian, she bitterly realized that she was meant to be there for this boy and she promised herself that she would help him, no matter what.

Scully stormed through the halls to the chapel. As the hospital's director and head priest, Father Ybarra lived above the hospital's unnecessarily large chapel. Most hospital chapels were small and intimate; the sounds inside the chapel were muted and cut off from the hallway by a sound proof door. Scully only guessed that door served two purposes: to keep the sounds of the hospital out and to keep the sounds of the grieving in. No one wanted to hear those two sounds clashing in such a sacred place. One got in the way of prayer and the other got in the way of hope. But in Our Lady of Sorrows, the chapel was a small cathedral, open and cavernous. Scully could only guess the reason was to force the idea of religion on patients and their families, especially when the hallways filled with the sounds of the small organ on Sunday mornings during mass.

Her pace slowed as she neared the chapel entrance and she stopped when she reached its large wooden doors. Pictures of scenes from the New Testament were displayed in the tall stained glass windows and at the end of the center aisle, in true Catholic style, was an ornate altar. Several Maltese crosses adorned the corners of the relief at the far end of the church. A stone statue of the Virgin Mary, painted to give her an eerie human appearance, sat sculpted into the center of the relief. Her face was full of sorrow and portrayed the pain of losing a son, her arms wrapped around a gold-flaked cross. The one detail Scully never understood was why the Sorrowful Mother wore a gold crown. She had just done what God had told her to do. She was not a saint, not of royal bloodline; she was nothing that deserved a crown. She was just a mother, who lost her son, in one of the worst ways possible. Scully felt a connection with her in that moment and she said a silent prayer as she stepped through the doors and walked down the aisle.

At the end of the aisle, she turned left and walked over to the narrow staircase that led to Father Ybarra's apartment. She crept as quietly as she could up the creaking stairs. The apartment was quiet, he was probably asleep. She looked at her watch and saw that it wasn't even five-thirty. She knocked on the door loudly and waited before knocking again more forcefully. Finally, she heard movement behind the door and it opened, revealing the disgruntled priest.

"May I help you, Dr. Scully?" he asked. His voice was overflowing with annoyance.

Scully faltered. It suddenly dawned on her that she had not thought through what she was going to say before she knocked on the door. Her mouth moved but nothing came out.

Father Ybarra sighed. "Is there something wrong?"

Scully shook her head. "Father, I…I'm going to find my son."

The priest seemed surprised by this, but he barely lifted an eyebrow. "Is this a confession, Dana?" he asked slowly, his voice confused. He had never known Dana Scully, the mother, only Dana Scully, M.D. "You drove a long way for that."

Scully rubbed her fingers across her forehead and tried to pick out individual molecules in the wood trim around the door. The immediate area around her made her think of Mulder's old apartment building. A jolt of adrenaline kicked in as she thought of Mulder's old home and she was forced to stifle a gasp. She knew it came from the fact that returning there would prove to be a fatal mistake; her body was sensing that for her. "It may be, Father."

Confidentiality was one thing she could expect from the priest, no matter how much he looked down on her record. Even if they had failed to see eye to eye in the past, Scully knew that she could put all her trust in him. She had rarely revealed any hints to her past life, barely uttered a breath about her son or Mulder to anyone associated with the hospital. For all anyone knew she lived alone and had never had anyone in her life at all. The man before her had listened to possibly hundreds of confessions throughout his life and had not uttered one single word to another person about the hideous secrets others were hiding. She knew that he would hardly be surprised by anything she said to him. Scully met his gaze. "I gave up my son for adoption…for his safety…when he was ten months old. I could…_can_ barely live with myself. I need to see him, so I'm going to find him."

"I am correct in assuming you're telling me this in confidence. Is there someone who shouldn't know?" He was drawing a conclusion from knowing her past as a Special Agent for the FBI.

_If only you knew…_Scully nodded. "My…partner, my son's father. His name is Fox Mulder. He is the reason for my black mark on my record. We were partners when we worked for the FBI. He knows how to conduct a formal investigation. He _will_ come here to look for me. But for my son's safety— and Mulder's—you can't say anything."

The priest nodded. It was the first time he and the head-strong Dr. Scully had come to an agreement. "Then may you go in peace. Pray God and Saint Christopher remain at your side on your journey," he blessed her and crossed her, uttering the Trinitarian formula in Latin. "_In nomine Patris, et Filli, et Spiritus Sancti. _Amen."

"Amen. Thank you, Father," she said sincerely. Scully paused. "I'm also here to put in my resignation. I've been gone far too long and I don't know how long I will be gone this time."

The priest nodded again. "I understand. Your skills were greatly appreciated."

Scully's eyebrow rose and she nodded in understanding. He had appreciated her skills and there was a serious tone of sincerity in his voice. She never would have guessed. "Thank you." _For everything_, she thought to herself. Turning to leave, she heard the soft click of the latch as the door shut behind her.

* * *

Interesting fact: there are actually three methods of inferencing or logical reasoning: the two most commonly known are dedcutive and inductive. The first draws conclusions from a hypothesis (geometric proofs), the second is the experimental testing of a theory (any science lab in the world). Neither are used to create ideas. The lesser known third form is actually called abduction, a term coined by famed 19th century philosopher Charles Sanders Pierce, and it precedes induction in scientific exploration. The method of abduction is simply observing the facts and creating a theory to explain those facts. Mulder's primary method of inferencing is abduction. How ironic. I learned that today when I read Chapter 1 (by Mark C. E. Peterson) in _The Philosophy of X-Files_.


	8. Please Leave A Message

Alrighty...I don't own X-Files.

* * *

8:47 AM

The air had been cut off and a cool breeze blew in through the open bedroom windows. Golden rays of sunlight filtered in through two layers of sheer cotton curtains and the few clouds in the sky. It was one of the most preferable ways to wake up. Mulder rolled over and reached out to find Scully beside him, but frowned when he felt nothing but cold sheets. He rolled onto his back and pressed his fingers into his eyes, effectively rubbing the sleep away. Slowly, he sat up, bracing himself with his hands on the mattress behind him, and looked around the room. The house was quiet, which was not anything out of the ordinary. Scully rarely made any noise when she woke up before him. He felt the sheets again. They were too cold. Scully had not been there for hours. He sighed, wondering at the source of her insomnia.

As he stood up, he pulled the duvet back in a sad attempt to make the bed. _Who's going to see it anyways, Scully_? He always had the same argument with her about it. _It's the premise, Mulder_. _It looks cleaner._ He shook his head and walked into the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Stubble was growing on his chin and he was in desperate need of a haircut. He reached down to grab his toothbrush and noticed something was off. Things were missing. _Scully's_ things were missing.

He turned quickly and walked out of the bathroom, tripping over his clothes on the floor on the way to the window. He scanned the front yard of the house, looking for the Fusion in the driveway. There was no sign of the car, and from what he could tell it had been several hours since it had been parked there. Surely there was a reason Scully had packed up and left. He racked his brain for an answer. Had she told him about a conference? Had she mentioned making a trip to her mother's? Or to see Bill or Charlie? Had he done something wrong? He shook his head, knowing that none of those were right. There had been no mention of any trip and he had been going out of his way to give Scully reasons to smile in the last few weeks.

Missing persons reports for adults couldn't be filed until the person had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours. Scully would never be lost; she could only be temporarily missing. She was more capable than Mulder wanted to admit. Shaking his head, he jumped over the bed and picked up his cell phone and punched in Scully's number. Hitting send, he listened as the phone rang twice before he heard a faint buzzing noise from behind him. He looked around as the phone rang two more times before going to voicemail. "_This is Dana Scully. Please leave a message._" He turned around and saw Scully's Blackberry sliding across the nightstand as it vibrated. Turning back slowly, he flipped his phone shut and wondered what was going on. It wasn't quite time to panic, but Mulder had a sense that something was way off.

Blood pumped through his veins and his heart pounded in his chest. His brain welcomed the feel of an adrenaline rush. His mind cleared and he put all his energy into focusing on the investigation. Even aiding the FBI five months before hadn't felt this nostalgic. This felt like a real case. Rarely had he been able to shine in the dusty basement. Scully was the only one that knew just how good at his job he really was.

He slid over to Scully's side of the bed, trying to get the scent. His feet met the floor and he stood up, his mind trying to think like Scully. One of the duffle bags they had taken on vacation with them was no longer sitting on top of the suitcase that was propped against the wall. She had been planning this. For how long was lost on him. Mulder's overly observant eyes swept over the room again before landing on the window looking out over the front of the house. He needed a car.

Two hours later, a car appeared in his front yard, courtesy of Enterprise and his quick jump to the computer. He stared at the car, pleased that for once the rental company had listened to his preferences. Running his hand down the frame of the black 2010 GT Mustang, he smiled. Somehow, he had lucked out. All black leather interior, with chrome and white trim. He rounded the front and stared into the grill. The slanted headlights looked angry, serious…_snake-like_. Cobra. Mulder shook his head. _If only_, he thought. The white racing stripes made it look more venomous as it stared him down in the driveway, giving it the appearance of a malevolent frown.

"Sir?" the representative asked, holding the keys out. "Will this be alright?"

Mulder looked at the small man. He was young, probably mid-twenties, hardly able to rent a car himself. His white company logo polo was almost too big for him and it half hung out of his khaki pants, which bunched around the top of his well-worn black and white Etnies. He was one of those kids that appeared unapproachable, sporting a full sleeve tattoo and several piercings in his face and ears, but was one of the most pleasant people to talk to as Mulder had quickly found out. "Yeah, this will do nicely. Thank you." He took the keys from the kid and nodded a thanks. The kid climbed in the tow truck he had driven to the farmhouse and then drove away quickly.

Clicking the unlock button on the fob, he gently pulled the door open, his hands moving as if handling china. He slid into the bucket seat and slowly sunk down into the soft leather before sticking the key in the engine and turning. He revved the engine, a chill running down his spine as all eight cylinders roared at him, chomping at the bit like any newly bridled mustang would. Mulder jumped out of the car and ran into the house to grab his overnight bag. When he returned he tossed the bag in the passenger seat and slid in ever-so-gently again, shutting the door just as softly.

Once he was on the road, he flattened the accelerator to the floor boards, the engine roaring with joy. The car lurched forward and picked up speed. He was going to make good time to his first stop at Our Lady of Sorrows. If he found Scully there, he could say he enjoyed a nice day in a nice car. If she wasn't there, this pony would get some more time to run…all the way to the front door of one John Doggett.


	9. This May Be A Break

No ownership of X-Files.

* * *

After a short hour's drive, Mulder exited the highway onto the back road that ran by the entrance of the hospital. Our Lady of Sorrows sat on the outskirts of a small city in the suburbs of Washington, D.C., set far back from the road. Mulder had seen nursing homes situated similarly, but he had a feeling that this had previously been used to treat the insane instead of the elderly.

A rusted wrought iron gate adorned the entrance, framing the long, oak-covered drive. The year of establishment sat in the center of the gate's horizontal piece. Overall, the hospital had a quaint Southern plantation feel to it, fitting for most historic locations in Virginia. Below the year of establishment hung a newer sign stating the name of the hospital. Gentle green giant oaks and maples were scattered across the landscape, small gardens were kept in open areas. If Mulder hadn't known better, he would have assumed the Catholic Church bought the old hospital and turned it into a monastery. Just past the gate sat an alabaster fountain, in the center a statue of the Virgin Mother and her infant son. Church bells tolled every hour and men with white collars and nuns in white habits could always be seen trekking across the grounds. Peaceful, serene…_spooky_, if Mulder had any say in it.

Mulder drove slowly down the poorly paved drive, the engine's roar now deafening and border-line embarrassing. He felt as if he may disturb the patients. He winced as the engine's noises echoed back to him from the walls of the giant brick building. The bells tolled in that moment in an angry defense. He shut the engine off as fast as he could. The mason-stone building loomed above him. It seemed twisted, like an old dead tree, ready to fall over. The sandstone that had once been white was now stained brown on the corners, the brick pitted by the environment. Mulder climbed the tall concrete stairs leading up to the entrance, jogging up them two at a time. He had only been there a handful of times the entire time Scully had worked there, but he knew that the inside was no stark contrast from the outside. In fact, it may have been worse.

The lobby was nothing too spectacular, aside from the twenty-foot stained glass window depicting the Lady of Sorrows on the far side on the landing between split-level stairs. The walls were dingy; the floor was scuffed black and white linoleum, patterned to mimic square-foot tiles. The one thing that Mulder could appreciate was the intricate designs on the woodwork through out the building. He had admired the walls inside of Scully's office, and all the intricacies that the architects and designers had included. Wood was something he was drawn to. It had an earthy feel and made him feel like part of the bigger whole.

The receptionist desk was off to the side. It appeared to be more of a ticket booth than a help desk. Nothing more than a hole in the wall, the window was covered in metal meshing, securing Mulder's assumption that the building had once housed the insane. The metal was merely to keep the staff safe. His hand unconsciously hovered near his gun below his jacket. As he approached the receptionist, he saw all the nurses behind the screen. They were all dressed in blue scrubs, with their hair pulled back at the nape of their neck.

Mulder approached the desk and one of the nurses looked up at him with a smile. She had brown eyes and stringy brown hair that hung limply around her face. She was nothing special and her eyes were bored, the smile on her lips not quite making it through her tired features, as if the genuine happiness of her smile was dammed up by tired muscles as it tried to move up her features. "My name is Fox Mulder. I'm looking for Dr. Dana Scully."

The nurse seemed to hesitate. "Sir," she said quietly. "Dr. Scully turned in her resignation. She's been done and gone since this morning." She had a slight Southern drawl, proof that her accent was fading, but that never prevented her from employing nearly incomprehensible phraseology.

"Gone where?" Mulder asked.

She shrugged, completely lost. "I reckon she'd a gone home or out to look for another hospital." She leaned forward, her voice dropping. "People talkin' that she up and left on account of all the new fame she earned working on that little boy, bless his heart. People sayin' she got her nose up in the air about it."

Mulder gave her a tight smile. Success could never touch Scully. She seemed immune to it, but keeping people from thinking that or spreading rumors is a different story. Scully had never revealed much to her coworkers at the hospital for fear of who might be listening. None of them really knew Scully for who she was. "Well, that's highly unlikely. Do you know who received her resignation?"

The girl typed something on the computer in front of her. "Says here that Father Ybarra took it." She looked back at Mulder.

"Then can you tell me where I might find him?"

She pointed to the stairs behind him. "The administration level, I reckon. He's been up there aplenty."

"Administration level. Thanks." He spun on his heels and ran up the stairs. On the administration level, he walked down the hall at a brisk pace looking for the rat-bastard of a priest that Scully had complained about for nearly five years. He passed a name plate on the wall that caused him to do a double take. He backed up and looked at it fully, before looking at the door. This had been Scully's office. The adrenaline began to kick in again. The door was ajar, and he slowly pushed the door open more. Inside, two young nurses in blue scrubs were packing boxes. "Excuse me," Mulder said.

They looked up at him. "Can we help you, sir?" the one standing behind Scully's desk asked.

"I'm here to pick up a few things that Dr. Scully left."

The nurse looked at him, her brow furrowing as if she was trying to remember something. "No one said anything about you coming."

Mulder nodded. "I…we live together. She's not able to get her things, so I volunteered."

The nurses seemed to accept this. The one behind the desk motioned at the two boxes on the floor in the middle of the room. The large frames holding all of Scully's degrees and the art work on her walls sat between them. The larger artwork still hung on the walls. Mulder saw a familiar frame holding her certificate of completion from Quantico. "These were all her personal things. We're just going through and making sure there's nothing else we missed. The only things that will be a big problem are the books in her library…" She motioned at the shelves on the far wall.

"I must say that she has an interesting collection here," the second nurse said finally speaking. She was packing the books into several boxes. "She's got a few books down on the bottom that are about the paranormal approach to medicine, spiritual healing, Chinese medicine, Navajo healing rituals…I've never known her to use anything but standard Western taught medicine…"

Mulder smirked. "Dr. Scully is not your everyday type of doctor."

"What surprised me more was the certificate from the FBI Academy. I had no idea…" the first nurse said. "She was a very private woman while she was here. What is she like at home?"

Mulder shrugged. "More or less the same." If that wasn't far from the truth, he didn't know what was. "We're both umm…retired FBI." He paused. "Did you find anything else odd?"

The nurses did not hesitate to gossip about the elusive Dr. Scully with him. These were the type of people he had been taught to interview during investigations. The gossip queens, the neighbors with nosey reputations, the old women who worked in their gardens everyday…anyone who liked to talk. The first nurse held up a framed picture for Mulder to see. A twinge of pain tore through him when he saw William's toothless smile. The baby was lying on his stomach, reaching for the camera, the familiar pattern of Scully's old duvet beneath him. "The back of the picture says that his name is William and that in this picture he was seven months old."

"I never knew she had a son, or that she was married," the second nurse commented.

The nurse at the desk picked up another picture, taken a few months after Mulder and Scully had bought their house. They had had their close friend over and Monica had managed to snap a picture of them together. Mulder's arms were draped over Scully's shoulders and Scully's head was tilted, resting against his bicep. They were smiling, but Mulder knew it was a façade. The nurse did a quick double take at the picture. "I knew I recognized him! Liz, he's the one in the picture!" So Book Nurse had a name.

"Oh my…Sydney, you're right!" And so did Desk Nurse.

"Oh…we're not married…" Mulder said.

"No?" Sydney asked. Mulder thought he heard disappointment in her voice. She looked at the picture and handed it to Mulder. "You look very happy together though."

"It's your eyes that say it all," Liz mentioned. Mulder looked at her. "Your eyes hide a lot, but not your love for her."

Mulder took the picture of William from the desk and dropped the pictures in one of the boxes. He felt like he was losing control of this interview, he was breaking one of the cardinal rules of interviewing witnesses. "We're not together anymore; we just live with each other." Mulder wondered if they could see straight through his lie. He shrugged. "It's a habit now. What else have you found out?"

"She has pictures of four other kids; I'm guessing that they are her nieces and nephews," Liz said.

"Did either of you speak with her today?"

Liz looked at Sydney. "I believe Syd saw her as she was starting her shift."

Sydney nodded. "She told me she was leaving and that she needed her personal things packed in her office. I told her I was sorry to see her go."

"Did she say anything that seemed out of the ordinary?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. Her eyes were distant, trying to recall the details of her conversation early that morning. "People are saying that she was offered a better job somewhere because of her success with Christian, but I know that she was happy working here."

Mulder nodded. This was not going to help him. "I need to speak to Father Ybarra. Do you know where he is?"

They both pointed in the same direction, telling him to look in the priest's office. Mulder thanked them and left the room, frustrated with the direction that this case was taking. Mulder knew that if Scully didn't want to be found, she wasn't going to be found. She had taken her gun and her expired FBI credentials. Both were missing from the nightstand drawer. As Mulder walked down the hall, he hoped that he would receive some divine hint standing in the presence of a true Man of God.


	10. She Wouldn't Do Anything Crazy

By the time Mulder had made it to Our Lady of Sorrows, Scully was sitting on a bed in a run-down side-of-the-road hotel. These hotels, the ones that Mulder swore by, had become nearly as familiar to Scully as her own bed. They all had the same smell, the same tacky decorations, hideous bed spreads, and they all said something about the state that they were in. Though she would much rather stay in a presidential suite for once, Mulder would have a harder time tracking her down if she stayed in these run-down joints that he loved so much.

Scully had taken the earliest cheapest flight she could get from Dulles International. The flight had placed her outside of Des Moines, Iowa, of all places. When the plane had landed, she found a kiosk in the terminal to buy a TracFone before taking a cab to the hotel. There she had decided that the best course of action would be to stay there for the day and get in contact with Child Services. She had been using the past hour to get in contact with the adoption agency, having to dig deep emotionally to get her way with them so they would stop giving her the run around. Finally, they put her in contact with the agent in charge of William's case. She had tried to deny her access to information that Scully had provided her with in the first place. When Scully had not been able to take it anymore, she had said, "If you don't help me find my son, I will find him myself."

"Dr. Scully, I understand how you feel about seeing your son," the woman was now saying on the phone. "I am a mother as well. But you are not William's legal guardian, and can not make decisions for him."

Scully swallowed to keep her voice from cracking with emotion. She had to dig deep into the anger she felt to remain clear-headed and unemotional. There was an injustice to her situation that she could not get around. "Then contact his parents. All I want to do is to see him."

"I will contact them, but I can't guarantee their cooperation. I will try my hardest to get them to accept your request."

Scully knew her way around the government system. If she really wanted to find William, she could do it all on her own. For some reason, she had thought using the system may have been easier. And safer. "Well, you might want to have them consider with all my specifications in mind."

"Okay…"

"As I told you originally, the fact that I was a single working mother at the time had nothing to do with my choice to put William up for adoption."

Scully heard papers rustling in the background, hopefully that meant that William's file had been kept in paper form as she requested. Paper was easily disposable and harder to track than an electronic file. "You had mentioned something about his father endangering his life."

Scully hesitated. "That's only a half-truth. The work that his father and I did…we had powerful adversaries who would have stopped at nothing to keep us from doing our jobs. His father was in hiding right after he was born and, without his help, William's life was in danger every day."

There was a deliberate pause on the other end of the line. "Does this have something to do with the special requests you have?"

Scully's head hit the headboard behind her and she sighed heavily. "I'm trying to make sure that my decisions are fully understood."

"I can appreciate that. We hate to see birth parents forced to give up their child, especially in cases like yours."

Scully wasn't sure if she wanted to know what "cases like hers" meant. "William's father was a threat to his life. As long as I didn't know where he was, William was in danger, especially if I was more than twenty feet from him. We were given an ultimatum; William or my partner. The best choice I could make was to have them both in hiding." Scully paused waiting for a disbelieving reaction. "In order to see William, I can't know his last name or see him in the state that he lives in. On top of that, I can't even know what city I see him in."

"Dr. Scully, your requests are going to take a lot of special arranging."

"There's more," Scully said, taking a deep breath. "William is at an age where his brain remembers everything, but he can't remember seeing me."

"How do you suggest we prevent that?"

"The least invasive way possible," Scully said. "He will have to go through hypnotherapy."

"Children forget small events like this, what makes you think that he will remember it? Dr. Scully, are all these precautions completely necessary?"

Scully sighed again. How could she explain that she and her son both possessed extraterrestrial DNA and a strong emotional bond through it? No one would listen to her if she said that, and finding William would become that much harder. They would label her crazy and she would be rewarded with another black mark in her life's file. When Scully finally spoke again, she spoke slowly and articulated every syllable. "If it had been up to me, I would be sending _my_ son to first grade in the fall and planning his sixth birthday party. The hypnotherapy is completely necessary for his safety and for mine. I can put you in contact with an FBI clinical hypnotist. You can make all the arrangements, but make sure that you are the only one that knows all the details."

"I'll see what I can do. I'll be in contact with you in the next twenty-four hours."

"Thank you." Scully angrily tossed the TracFone down onto the nightstand. A very small part of her felt scared and she knew William had sensed her anger. She sighed. He was going to know her the moment he saw her. The hypnosis was necessary. Now hopefully, the adoption agent could convince her son's adoptive parents to go along with the deal she had proposed. She reached up to the cross around her neck and rubbed it between the pads of her thumb and forefinger, praying to God that if He never did anything else for her, that He allow this one thing to happen.

* * *

Later that day…

William Van De Kamp stepped off the bus at the end of the long driveway that led up to his house. As soon as his foot hit the first step on the bus, the scent of cows hit him full blast and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. He hated his father's cows and now that the weather was beginning to get warm they would smell worse and worse. He turned and waved a small hand at his bus driver, his bright blue Frank Sinatra eyes twinkling, before running on short legs to the ATV parked at the end of the driveway. One of his father's farm hands, Justin, who was about to graduate high school picked him up every day and brought him up to the farm house.

Justin was leaning casually against the saddle of the ATV. He put his hand out for William to high five before hoisting him into the saddle. "Hey, bud, how was your day?"

"Good," William said. "I got a note from Mrs. Priestly for crying again."

"Oh, man," Justin said, genuinely concerned. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just cry sometimes. I got really scared for some reason, like I do when Dad is angry when the cows don't give milk."

"You get scared because the cows are how your pop makes money, right?"

William nodded. "Yeah, he gets angry and I get scared because I know something is wrong."

Justin pondered this, leaning on one hand, gripping the handle on the ATV. "Well, was Mrs. Priestly angry? Or Joey?" Joey was William's closest friend in his class.

William shook his head. "Someone else."

"Someone like who?" Justin asked climbing onto the ATV and starting it up. He turned to William so he could hear his answer.

"My mom was really angry."

Justin smiled. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. She's not angry right now. In fact, she says she made cookies today. There's a giant cookie and a cold glass of milk waiting for you in the kitchen." William smiled and wrapped his small arms around Justin's torso as far as he could. Justin turned the vehicle around and sped off toward the farm house. Even though he had told William all was well, he could not shake that there was something different about this kid. He couldn't pinpoint it, but William had come home with too many notes about lashing out in reaction to emotions he had felt and couldn't explain. Justin knew he was in no way an expert, nor did he have the right to judge, but he knew something was different. William had no idea what adoption meant, nor did he know that he had been adopted as a baby, but Justin wondered if William's biological family had a predisposition to mental disorders. Justin shrugged it off. After all, he had no place to jump to conclusions about William. He was just an ordinary kid.


	11. Have You Spoken With Father Ybarra?

Haha...thanks for the reviews. I really appreciate them. Everyone seems to like the Mustang. I love Mustangs. They're my favorite. And the 2010 model introduced a new look to the front end. Very sleek, very awesome.

* * *

As Mulder made his way down the hallway in the direction Sydney and Liz had pointed him toward, he found another reason to hate this hospital. The halls were narrow, the walls that had been white were yellowing, dingy, and depressing. The ceiling was far above his head, but it didn't quell the feeling of claustrophobia that shook his core. Rickety wooden chairs sat against the walls, jutting out into the walking path and doctors with their noses in patient files nearly tackled each other to the ground as they hurried through the halls to their next destination. Finally, Mulder found the priest's name plate on the wall and rapped his knuckled on the privacy glass pane.

A voice from inside answered firmly. "Enter."

Mulder pushed the door open. "Father Ybarra?"

"Yes, come in." The priest motioned Mulder in with a beckoning gesture and sat back in his leather chair. Mulder noticed that this office was slightly more expensively designed than Scully's. Father Ybarra touched his fingertips together, frowning at Mulder curiously. "Do we know each other?"

Mulder stood numbly in the doorway for a brief moment before taking a step further into the room and pushing the door shut behind him. He shook his head. "Uhh…no, sir. Probably not. Though you may remember seeing me around the hospital from time to time. My name is Fox Mulder." Mulder completed the distance between the door and the desk in two long strides, extending his hand politely. As he came up to the desk, Mulder noticed a very, very fleeting flash of recognition, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The priest stood and slowly shook Mulder's outstretched hand before motioning to a chair Mulder thought looked more comfortable than Scully's desk chair. He shook his head. "No, thank you. I'd rather stand."

Father Ybarra nodded and sunk back into his chair. He raised his hands and eyebrows in a questioning manner. He pressed his fingertips together again. "Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Mulder?"

"I was told you were the person who received Doctor Scully's resignation this morning."

The priest raised an eyebrow in a Scully-like manner. "A resignation, but in not so many words."

"What do you mean?" Mulder acted genuinely curious.

Ybarra deadpanned at Mulder. "She appeared at my door before six A.M. to tell me she was leaving. Not give me a personal two-week notice, but just walk out after a four month leave of absence. I'm now doubly short staffed for the day because not long after Doctor Scully walked out, two more of my physicians called in sick this morning. So, Mr. Mulder, unless your questions are meant to implicate me in a heinous crime or to find Doctor Scully for that very same reason, I have a lot of work to do."

Mulder shook his head and sat in the chair offered to him moments before. He wasn't going anywhere. At least at present time. "I apologize, Father, I meant no offense." Mulder sat back, his hands wrapping around the ends of the armrests, his foot propped up on the opposite knee. He was looking for anything that would betray any knowledge that the priest had. Aside from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb in Scully's office, this rat was the last person to see Scully before she left. Scully had to have given a reason for leaving. Mulder knew Scully did not need to work; she did it because she wanted to, but his Scully would never fall away without reason. He also had the idea that Father Ybarra would not just let Scully leave without providing a somewhat decent reason.

"Then forgive my candor, Mr. Mulder, but what are you doing here?"

"Doctor Scully normally sees me for sore throats. I heard she left, so now I'm trying to find her so that my heath care needs can still be met." Mulder gave the priest a small smile.

Father Ybarra's face remained skeptical, but he had a moral dilemma calling the man sitting across from him a liar. In the end that would make him a hypocrite. He had known who Fox Mulder was the moment he saw him standing in the doorway of his office, yet here he was pretending he had never heard his name. He had made a promise during Doctor Scully's confession that he would keep her secret. Obviously, whoever this man Mulder was, he was a threat to Doctor Scully's life and that of her son. The priest could never willingly put the life of a child in danger, and he had a good idea that was why he put Doctor Scully in pediatrics, having a sort of sixth sense or divine inkling that Doctor Scully was a gifted pediatrician.

As the priest fell quiet, Mulder noticed the conflict in his eyes. The inner turmoil played on his face whether he knew it or not, betraying his adamant stance that he knew nothing about Scully aside from the fact that he was short-staffed because of her. Mulder frowned, knowing that this man lived to keep peoples' secrets safe. If Scully had said something to Father Ybarra, Mulder was not going to find out from the priest. There would be no way of opening him up without brute force. Father Ybarra was going to end up being a dead end lead. He leaned forward in the chair, his voice becoming soft and understanding. "Forgive me, Father. It's not my place to pry…"

"Fox Mulder is the name Doctor Scully put on record as her emergency contact," the priest said, remembering a small detail that had been buried deep in his psyche. He met Mulder's eyes curiously, but Mulder was lost with what questions they were asking. "No address, no other personal information. Only a name and a number."

"I didn't know she regarded me so highly," Mulder said, raising his eyebrows. In reality, he had thought Scully would list her mother as her emergency contact before she listed him.

The priest shook his head. "Well, this is no emergency, so I have no information to release to you. If she chooses not to tell you her business, that's all on her. I'm sorry."

"But—" Mulder started.

"I'm sorry," the priest said firmly and stood. "There's nothing I can do for you."

Mulder nodded and stood, lingering for a short moment before turning and leaving the office. Out in the cramped hallway, he sighed. The priest had been right, there was no emergency. Scully had only been gone for roughly eight hours. That was hardly enough time to call in any professional search team. Mulder just couldn't shake the feeling that something had gotten to Scully. He stopped at Scully's office and grabbed two boxes, thanking Sydney and Liz for their help and taking their offer to help him take everything to his car. Once he had everything packed into the Mustang, he climbed in and brought the engine back to life with a loud, echoing rumble. He set his sights for Alexandria.

* * *

When the door shut behind Fox Mulder's defeated and retreating form, Father Ybarra slouched in his chair and sighed. Fox Mulder, the ex-FBI agent, had known when to stop asking questions. Father Ybarra thanked God for that. He was only capable of so much evasion. Fox Mulder was searching for Doctor Scully, but not to harm her he had realized. Father Ybarra could see it in the man's face that he was lost without her, that it had been a long time—years maybe— since he had gone without her for more than one day. Father Ybarra could only guess at the reason that Doctor Scully had kept her destination a secret from Fox Mulder. He couldn't imagine a child's life being in danger just through knowledge of his existence, but Doctor Scully had given up her son because of it.

He shook himself out of thought and pushed away his guilt. He had to find another physician to take Doctor Scully's place.


	12. Release

**No ownership of the characters.**

I watched "William" halfway through this. I almost cried. I forgot how good it really was. Gillian Anderson does a great job with the emotions, especially as she's talking to Monica explaining that she has a choice of the life her son could have, and David Duchovny did an awesome job writing and directing, though I'm sure we all agree that William should not have left Scully. But these things do happen. Anyways...I said Indian-style. I don't get the political correctness of "criss-cross apple sauce" or "taco sauce" or any other sauce. That's just stupid and way too many syllables. I would bet that there are no Indians, Native American or Asian, that find calling a style of sitting offensive and if there are any...I just think you're reaching for something to complain about. I seriously mean no offense, it's just funny and fascinating to me.

I'm at a loss for a quote for the chapter title. Let me know if you have any ideas! Seriously! Review! haha I really appreciate them!

* * *

It had been months since the last time Scully had been agitated enough to run. After she had hung up with the adoption agent, she had realized she was full of excess energy. She needed to run. Running was a release, a breath of cool, fresh air to clear her head. It brought a focus she had forgotten how to achieve. There was one point she had run every day during her lunch break, an easy two miles in fifteen minutes, a quick shower and styling of the hair, and then picking up lunch on the way back to the Hoover Building, stuffing her face as quickly as she could. It had helped her get through the day when Mulder was being especially frustrating.

Two miles wouldn't suffice today. She ran for what felt like forever, her muscles screaming at her to stop, to turn around and crash hard on the bed, but her mind told her to keep going. Her legs eventually fell numb, her feet pounding to the steady one, two, one, two, one, two she counted out in her head, her breathing measured out in fours. _In, two, three, four…out, two, three, four…_Sweat dripped down her forehead and into her eyes, the t-shirt on her back expanding the wetter it became. Before long the t-shirt felt as if it had grown at least two sizes. Her heart pounded in her nose, the hot summer air burned in her nose and throat, and the contents in her stomach threatened to force their way out. She swallowed against it, pushing harder.

Eventually, she stopped on the side of the rural highway and doubled over off the road, emptying her stomach contents into the ditch. Her muscles were screaming for oxygen and her throat felt like sandpaper, in desperate need of water. The hotel was not far down the road. She could see the parking lot and main entrance from where she stood. Scully gave up on the shirt that felt like it had grown one more size and removed it, revealing a petite figure covered by a black sports bra and tanned, toned abs beneath the baggy t-shirt. She wiped her face and mouth with the t-shirt before tucking it into the back of her shorts and climbing back onto the road. She looked at the hotel grimly. It was still a good distance away and her muscles were tired, screaming, her lungs, nose, and throat were burning, her stomach churning. She set off at a slight jog, gradually gaining speed until she was in a full sprint, flying down the road with her toes being barely a point of contact with the pavement.

She circled the hotel twice at a brisk walk to cool down, before returning to her room and stretching her muscles again in front of the television. The taste of bile returned to her throat and she grabbed the trashcan under the desk, again emptying whatever was left in her stomach into the trashcan. She tied the bag off and walked over to the side table to check if she had any missed calls, expecting to find Mulder's number on the caller ID before remembering she wasn't carrying her real phone.

Mulder.

He was probably looking for her now. Not quite panicking, maybe getting frustrated that she had just left without saying anything to him. She needed to do this…whatever _this_ meant…on her own. How she would explain that would be thought out when the time came. If he reacted emotionally, she wouldn't blame him. What she was doing was an emotional reaction to the loss of her son and she couldn't ask him to act logically, especially when she was hardly taking any logical action herself.

She shook her head and moved to the bathroom, running the shower with mildly cold water, enough to cool her body down, but not send it into shock. The water was refreshing and she just stood under the stinging drops, feeling the built-up tension ease out of her muscles and letting the water cascade down her face. Finally she reluctantly turned the water off and climbed out of the shower. Her stomach was growling, her body aching for food and water replenishment. She dried her hair and walked to the restaurant next door and asked for a house salad to go. When she returned, she checked the phone on the nightstand for any missed calls again. Seeing nothing, she sighed and set to inhaling her salad before flopping back on the bed, no longer fighting fatigue and succumbed to a restless sleep.

* * *

When the phone began ringing, Scully's eyes shot open and she sat up in a temporary panic. She wasn't in her bed. Why had she been asleep? How long had she been asleep? Her heart pounded as she looked around the hotel room, working through her muddled memories. The sun was hanging much lower in the sky and the late afternoon golden rays filtered through the sheer curtains on the windows. She blinked in the room's dimness and reached for the phone, her brain finally working through the memories. William, Father Ybarra, Mulder, planes, Mulder, William… She put the phone to her ear, her eyes still reading confusion. "Hello?"

"_Doctor Scully, this is Ruth Horner, with the adoption agency_."

Scully recognized the voice and she felt her stomach jolt, hoping that whatever news she was about to hear was good. Her heart rate increased again. "Yes?"

"_I'd like to let you know that I spoke to your son's parents. They're very skeptical about your requests. Especially the hypnosis._"

Scully felt sick again. She couldn't have her son's adoptive parents not trusting her, refusing to follow her precautions. It was a risk she was not willing to take. "Did you explain to them that it was for everyone's safety?"

"_I did. They can't understand why they should agree if there is such imminent danger._"

Scully fell silent for a moment. She could respect that fear. "If I agree to discuss the hypnosis with them further face-to…" A voice in the background stopped Scully from continuing. Faintly, a small boy's voice could be heard asking for something. Another voice quietly asked him to go play outside. William. The social worker was next to her son. "Are you with them now?"

Ruth hesitated on the other end of the line. "_I am, Doctor Scully_."

Scully's heart tightened in her chest, but she pushed past it. "If I agree to discuss the hypnosis with them face-to-face and all the factors behind my precautions, will they agree to consider the option and meet my requests? I will tell them as much as I can, which admittedly is probably not enough to satisfy them."

"_I'll discuss it with them. Let me call you back_."

Scully did not say anything. She pulled the phone down from her ear, her hands folding around it in her lap. Her spine stiffened and she sat at her full height, her legs folded in, Indian-style. Tears threatened the back of her eyes and she finally hung her head. Hopefully, knowing that she had tried would quell the need to see her son's face again.

* * *

Ruth Horner hung up the phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to a hot mug of tea. The last time she had been to this house had been nearly five years before to drop a little blue-eyed boy off with his new parents. Since then, she had stopped coloring her hair, the gray taking over full force with her short-style cut. Her pale gray eyes searched the faces of the couple sitting across from each other. The man, Michael van de Kamp, was sitting on the couch next to his wife, Annie, holding her hand and she was squeezing tightly, her knuckled slightly white. Their eyes were concerned and confused. They had sent William outside with Justin Gerard, the eighteen year old farmhand that William looked up to like a brother.

Ruth's pale eyes met the gaze of the woman across from her. "William's mother has proposed another option."

Annie shook her head. "Why now of all times has she chosen to see him? And with such demands!"

Ruth shook her head. "As I explained to you when we first brought William to you…his mother made a life choice. She loved him very much. I think that her heart needs some closure, to be able to see that he is doing alright in his new life away from her."

"How can we be sure that she will not want to do this on a yearly basis if we allow it once?" Michael asked. "Surely, William will start remembering something eventually. Which defeats the purpose of her requests."

"We can't be sure what will happen exactly. She has offered to discuss things with you face-to-face if you agree to her other precautions. She will tell you everything she can."

"Do we have a choice? You said she worked for the government."

"You always have a choice. You are the legal guardians of your son, Mrs. Van de Kamp. Though I can't deny that I'm sure she's fully capable of finding him without our help. I think she feels it is safer this way."

"I don't understand all this talk about safety," Annie said, looking at her husband. "He's been safe while he was here."

Ruth shook her head. "I have to admit, I wasn't privy to all the details surrounding the choice that William's mother made when she gave him up. Just because he is safe here doesn't mean that his life wasn't in danger with her. I will admit, I've never seen a birth parent that has been so insistent to see her child."

"Can you recount the terms we need to follow?" Michael asked.

Ruth nodded and listed off all of Scully's demands. First name basis, meeting in another state, all details kept secret, William's need to forget that he ever saw her. When she was done, the couple was silent for a few moments. Finally, Michael said, "Can we discuss this for a few moments alone?" Ruth nodded and he pulled Annie to her feet and led her to the kitchen on the far side of the room. Ruth sat listening to the muffled voices coming from behind the closed door. She was honestly more afraid of what would happen if they made the decision to not go along with Doctor Scully's requests. The Van de Kamps returned a few minutes later and stood behind the couch. They looked at each other and Annie nodded. "Go ahead and schedule the meeting, but make sure she knows that things need to be discussed with her in length before we agree to some of her terms."

Ruth nodded, a smile threatening to cross her features. She picked up her phone and dialed the number. "Hello, Doctor Scully…?"

* * *

Scully hung up the phone and froze, her body completely numb. Then as if the dam holding in her emotions broke, she began to cry, sobs racking her body so hard she had trouble catching her breath. She felt all the pain, all the sadness, all the heartbreak, the fear, the worry, the panic, all the happiness, joy, and pride spilling from her body at once uncontrollably. She couldn't move, her limbs were heavy like lead. She had five days of travel ahead of her, her final destination being Oregon. How fitting. Her body drained, she passed out on the bed again.


	13. Filling Out A Report

**I don't own TXF.** I keep forgetting again, but I think it's obvious enough.

A/N: In chapter 12, I said that Scully's heart was pounding in her nose. Personally, I've never had that happen. I'm not sure that your heart can pound in your nose. It's supposed to say head. Apparently, I never caught that until the fourth or fifth time I read through it.

* * *

Mulder parked the Mustang between John Doggett's green Silverado and Monica Reyes' black Mazda 3 on the street outside of John's home in Alexandria. The house was a plain looking two-story Victorian on a small lot, much too large for one man to live in by himself. If Mulder didn't know that John liked to have space to spread out, he would have wondered why the other man had bought the house in the first place. Mulder walked across the yard and climbed the stairs of the front porch. He knocked on the door loudly and waited, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The door opened a few moments later, revealing Monica Reyes in casual clothes. Mulder raised his eyebrows, but smiled. Monica returned the smile and looked past him at the Mustang on the street.

"Mulder…I wondered what that rumbling was."

Mulder glanced at the car. "Yeah…" he scratched the back of his head and swung his gaze back to Monica. "It's a rental." He shrugged. "Mind if I come in?"

Monica stepped back and gestured for him to step inside. He obliged, and she shut the door behind him. "Is everything alright?"

"Mulder?" John Doggett asked walking down the stairs.

Mulder stood awkwardly in the foyer of the house, glancing between his friends. "Scully…took off this morning."

Monica's eyes narrowed. "Like you had a fight…?"

Mulder shook his head and laughed nervously. "What? No. I wouldn't be here if we had a fight. I woke up and something was off. She left early this morning. A duffle bag was gone and so was a lot of her stuff. She left this." He pulled the Blackberry out of his pocket. "No note or anything. I went by Our Lady of Sorrows before coming here. She put in her resignation this morning."

"And then she just left?" Monica asked, her voice bordering on confusion. Mulder nodded.

"Are you sure you didn't say something to her?" John asked, joining them in the foyer.

"Thank you for the confidence," Mulder said sarcastically. He looked at Monica. "You were one of the last people on her recent calls list. She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

Monica folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. "Not that I can remember, no. She called to tell me about visiting Christian. Did you try calling her mother?"

"I'm trying to hold off on that," Mulder admitted. "I want to see if I can find anything out before then. I'm here to ask you guys for help. To brainstorm."

"Well, let's do this like any missing persons investigation," John started. "We'll get your story and go from there. You've got that photographic memory, this should be a breeze." He turned and led them into the living room. He sat on the couch, Mulder sitting in a chair across from him. Monica brought a note pad and pen and set it on the coffee table and sat next to John on the couch.

"Where do you want to begin?" Mulder asked.

"Well, when you left, you said you were going on vacation indefinitely," Monica said. "Why did you come back?"

Mulder's eyes scanned the air in front of him, searching through his memories. "Scully had said she had been away from home long enough. She said that she enjoyed being away from every day events, but she had things that needed to be taken care of. She needed to check on Christian and she missed her mom. She also said that she was on edge because you two had held off asking us for help on any cases." Mulder slumped in the chair and leaned his head back against the back. "Four months is a long time to be away from home and I was working on her time. I had told her we could stay as long as she wanted. She's the one with emotional ties in the world. I only have her."

"How long were you there after she said she wanted to come back?" John asked.

"Four and a half days," Mulder said, absolutely positive. "She told me while we were eating breakfast. I told her we could leave whenever she was ready."

"She was in no hurry to get back then?" John asked.

Mulder shook his head. "No, she actually moved a lot slower those days and tried to take in a lot of sights those last few days, kind of like she was reluctant to leave."

"Did she do anything out of character those last few days?" Monica asked.

"Not really," Mulder said, shaking his head. His eyes continued to stare into his memories. "She drank too much rum one night, but I can't say that I was exactly sober myself."

Monica hid a smile behind her hand and John looked at her curiously. When she saw his eyes on her, she shook her head. "She, umm, she told me about that night the next day. Sorry," she said quietly. She mouthed an apology to Mulder. "Go ahead. Anything else out of character?"

Mulder shook his head. "I booked the flights and we packed. Other than that, we didn't really do anything that would present an opportunity to act out of character."

"Did she say anything strange when she was…intoxicated?" John asked.

Mulder sighed. "Toward the end of the night, she told me she was sorry she agreed with Agent Drummy to talk me into helping with the case. She apologized that she had been working so much this past year."

"Did she give a reason for working so much?" John asked.

"Not really, but I know she feels like she has to prove herself to the world. That little black mark I gave her record stresses her out a lot," he said, guiltily. He looked at John and Monica. "I don't think you're going to get anything from the vacation. Let's move forward or back. Help me pick apart something else."

* * *

Scully woke up two hours after her most recent phone call in the same confused state as she had when Ruth Horner had called her before. She gave the confusion time to subside before climbing out of the bed and repacking her bag. When everything was packed, she looked at the cell phone on the nightstand. She would hopefully be on a plane within the next two hours; even if Mulder tried to come after her she would be long gone already. Deciding to hold off calling Mulder, she left the room for the main desk to check out, and then called a cab to take her to the airport.

It was not until nearly an hour later that she pulled the phone out of her purse once she had settled in at the gate that her next flight was leaving from. She was eight hours and two layovers away from sunny Miami. She stared at the phone's display for a long time before dialing Mulder's number. Her thumb hovered over the send button for a few moments before she sighed and pushed it, bringing the phone up to her ear.

* * *

Empty boxes of Chinese food sat on the end of the coffee table. Mulder, John, and Monica had been poring over Scully's interactions with Mulder before and after their vacation for nearly five hours. The clock on the cable box read that they were nearing seven o'clock. Mulder scrubbed his face with his hands and watched as Monica went through the things Mulder had brought from Scully's office. John paced back and forth in the dining room on his phone, trying to track down Scully's car. Mulder picked up the picture of William. He had called the hospital and used John's FBI credentials to find out where he could find the two nurses he had been talking to earlier that day. Mulder had questioned them about where they found specific objects that may help them find Scully.

When he asked about William's picture, Liz had gotten quiet. She told him that it had been the only thing on her desk, but it was facing down. It seemed to be thrown to the side, abandoned, and picked up every so often. Mulder thanked her and examined the frame closer. The glass held smudges on it, as if Scully had run her finger across the picture several times. He imagined her heart aching and picking up the picture to ease the pain, brushing her thumb across their son's face. He put the picture back down on the coffee table and sighed. His attention was taken when he heard his phone buzzing on the chair next to him. He looked at Monica and then back to the phone. He picked it up and saw that he had a new voice mail.

"I have a new voicemail," Mulder announced. John and Monica looked at him. "From a…two-one-four number?" He shrugged and called his voicemail. He put the phone up to his ear and listened curiously as Scully's voice filled his ear.

"_Mulder, it's me. I'm calling to let you know that I'll be home as soon as I can. There's just something I need to do. I'll explain when I see you. Try not to order out as much while I'm gone. Mulder…" _She hesitated and an electronic sigh filled his ear. Her next words were spoken very carefully. _"I…I love you. Please understand this is something that I have to do. I'll be back soon, try not to worry about me._" Mulder hung up the phone and John and Monica looked at him expectantly. "That was Scully."

"Is she alright?" Monica asked.

"She was telling me that there's something she needs to do," he said, staring at the screen. He looked up at them. "I don't think she wants me to go after her. When I tell her that, I'm normally sneaking away to enjoy my Elvis obsession."

Monica's eyebrows rose on her forehead and exchanged glances with John. "I don't think she's going after Elvis, Mulder."

Mulder shook his head and stared at the rug beneath his feet. He pounded his fist lightly against the arm rest, his jaw set. "_Something_ is wrong," he insisted. "I can't put my finger on it…"

Monica stood and brushed her hands off on her pants, her eyes scanning the mess of Scully's possessions in John's living room. "I can't do this anymore. If she doesn't want you following her Mulder…I wouldn't do it." As if on cue, the microwave sounded that her water for tea was hot enough and she went into the kitchen.

Mulder looked over his shoulder at John, Scully's self-proclaimed protective sibling. John stepped forward, holding out his legal pad for Mulder. In his messy print, Mulder saw notes scribbled down. "A 2008 Silver Ford Fusion was seen in the Green Economy Lot at Dulles Airport this morning. Virginia tags, XSC-1013. Is that Scully's car?"

Mulder smiled and the rush of adrenaline returned. He knew that even if Scully did not want to be found, the thrill of looking would not elude him.


	14. And So The Journey Begins

**I don't own TXF.**

Okay, I just found this...wow. I had so many plans for this fic and now I'm so lost with the next step. And this chapter is pretty...lame. A filler. I have an idea for the next chapter, but I'm not sure how to word it out, so we'll see.

* * *

When Scully finally reached Miami, she made a direct beeline for the rental company she would be using a car from. As soon as she stepped through the doors into the super-chilled interior of Miami International's Alamo rental building, her stomach began to cramp thinking of the hundreds of thousands of miles she had spent in a non-descript sedan. She had been in buildings like this so many times before that they all looked alike, unable to distinguish one from the next. Her only change of scenery on this trip would be her view through the windshield of a Toyota Highlander in contrast to the cramped confines of a sedan.

She had a week to make it to Oregon and had mapped out her trip during her layover. There were five major stops between Miami and Salem and roughly ten hours between them. Her path was not a straight one, but it wasn't so far out of the way that she would be delayed in reaching Salem. As soon as she acquired her rental, she would be making her way as fast as possible to Jackson, Mississippi. After that, she would make her way through Dallas, Denver, Albuquerque, and Salt Lake City before finally stopping in Salem.

The late spring heat of Miami had her clothes sticking to her uncomfortably and she shifted from foot to foot as she waited in the line. Mulder was already picking up her scent and she knew that by driving across country, she could manage to keep him two or three steps behind her the whole way. They had been taught the basic principles of investigation by the same agency, which only managed to work for Scully. Despite Mulder's uncanny knack for abductive reasoning and making leaps of logic that only he could understand, they had been taught the same techniques by the same people. What's more, Scully knew Mulder almost better than he knew himself, especially after having spent nearly a full decade investigating cases with him.

She had already withdrawn a large sum of money from her bank accounts, knowing it best to avoid leaving an electronic trail unless it was absolutely necessary. The car was the last purchase to go on her credit card before she cut it in half and called the card company to report it lost. Finally, the TracFone she had picked up in Iowa had been abandoned and she had purchased a new one when she reached Miami. No one could contact her unless she wanted them to.

It wasn't long before she was sitting behind the wheel of a black Highlander, flying back up the interstate as fast as local limits would allow. Without a badge that would allow her the benefit of "professional courtesy," she had learned to ease off the gas while she was driving. She sighed as she settled back into the seat, staring at the long stretch of road in front of her. It slowly dawned on her as the miles slowly sifted by that in one week, she would be seeing her son for the first time in six years. Her mind slowly flooded with memories of his infancy and the dangers that had surrounded their short life together. It took her just as long to realize that those dangers hadn't been entirely eliminated, and she spent hours trying to remember as much as she could of the supersoldiers. She knew there was no turning back at this point. She was fully committed to this endeavor and she wasn't just inconveniencing stubborn social workers anymore. She had to think of the little boy and his parents who were in this just as deep as she was. What kind of predicament had she put herself into now?


	15. I don't believe this

A/N: Okay...so. I just graduated and finally have time to get back to doing more than reading some fan-fics. I have this completely planned out from now until the end, so hopefully I can get it out quickly and not take years (literally) to update. So after a minor two or three year hiatus...

* * *

It had been a little more than two and a half long weeks since Scully had shot out of Miami as fast as she could.

She had zig-zagged across the country, making her way to San Francisco and hanging a hard right straight up the coast into Oregon. Scully had crawled along the 101 for over fifteen hours, sticking close to the coast line. It was peaceful, having the Pacific at her left elbow for the entire day, even if the drive was long and slow as it wound its way through the coastal mountains. As she had passed into Oregon, her stomach tightened and knotted at the vivid memories attached to the state. She pressed on, all the way to Astoria and checked into a riverside Holiday Inn. Her room was overlooking the river, but by the time she had glided into the surprisingly nearly vacant parking lot, she had just been looking for a mattress and a pillow where she could pass out and wait for the phone call from Ruth Horner.

Scully was early. She wouldn't be getting a phone call for almost two days. Restlessness had settled in somewhere in Oklahoma and she had begun driving further during the days and staying barely more than eight hours at each hotel. Somehow, she had managed to stretch the drive out and take up more time in her trip. It was nearly ten at night when Scully's head finally hit the pillow. Sleep wasn't far behind.

When she finally awoke again, her watch indicated she had slept for nearly twelve hours. Adrenaline shot her straight up in bed as the restlessness returned. Barely five minutes later, she was shutting the door behind and running down the street. Her heart was already pounding before she even got outside, due solely to the adrenaline pumping through her veins. As her feet pounded steadily on the pavement below and her breathing slowly began to even out, she found herself pondering the lunatic situation she had put herself into.

What was she _doing_?

This would not end well for anyone involved, she knew, but something had been eating away at her for the last few months and it changed everything. She knew that it had to do with Christian's mother and her unknowing comment about being a mother, implying Scully couldn't possibly understand what she and her husband were going through. Her comment had brought forth memories of Emily and then her heart ached with the pained memory of both children she lost. And for some reason, it was different this time. She _had_ to see him. William was her last and only chance to feign normalcy and she just needed a small taste of it to hold her over. Hopefully.

* * *

THREE DAYS EARLIER

"Thanks for coming with me, John," Mulder said as they exited yet another dead end of a hotel.

John waved it away. "Something doesn't feel right about this. I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen."

Mulder looked up to the sky, half expecting a foreboding storm cloud to be hovering above their heads, but couldn't find a single cloud in the sky. "And what about her?" Mulder nodded toward Monica standing out by the SUV in the parking lot. "She wasn't exactly willing to come along."

John smirked. "She's always up for the ride. She knows something is up, even if she doesn't want to admit it."

They walked silently back to the silver Equinox to gather their bags. Once John and Monica joined him, Mulder had turned in the Mustang and upgraded to something they could all fit in. Monica stood up from where she had been leaning against the hood of the car to meet them. "Well?" she prodded.

Mulder shook his head and stared out at the main road, chewing his lower lip. "The guy behind the desk said she checked out two days ago. We're stuck for a moment. John and I already got a room."

Monica sighed and pulled her own duffle out of the trunk and they walked into the hotel. Several minutes later, Mulder was leaning over the desk, scanning the map. Several black dots had been scribbled onto the continental map, tracing the route they had trailed Scully on. Mulder grabbed a pen and scribbled in another dot just north of Albuquerque on the map in Rio Rancho. He traced the zig-zag line from Miami to Atlanta to Memphis, Sioux Falls to Lincoln, and then Wichita, Tulsa, Amarillo, Cheyenne, Colorado Springs and tapped his finger repeatedly over Rio Rancho trying to guess her next move. They had only been about twenty-four hours behind her until they reached Wichita, at which point the rental company's GPS signal fizzled out. Then it was a guessing game. Mulder knew Scully well enough to predict most stops. They had spent a year and a half running from his military charges; moving unseen across the country was nothing new to them.

The west coast was the obvious destination, but that left miles and miles of country to be searched. But she would head north first. That was the pattern; north, south, north, south, all while continually moving west. The last few places said that the guest information showed that she had barely stayed enough time to sleep before heading out early the next day, making it harder and harder for Mulder to track her, putting them further and further behind her, and making it harder and harder shake the same feeling that was beginning to consume Monica and John as well.

Something was happening.

He felt the adrenaline stirring up butterflies in the pit of his stomach, the feeling that always came when he knew something big was about to happen. Only this time he couldn't put a finger just on what was going on. He sat back in the chair and crunched a sunflower seed husk between his front teeth. He had _never _witnessed this type of erratic behavior from Scully. She was always the level-headed one. He had relied on that steadiness for so many years it frightened him that all of the sudden she was the irrational one, disappearing in the middle of the night, leaving vague messages on his voicemail. The sudden role reversal hit him hard, and he felt mild regret for having done that to her so many times in the early years of their partnership.

Shaking it away, he crunched another husk between his teeth and tossed it haphazardly toward the trashcan. He groaned and scrubbed his face. The gears in his head were starting to overheat as he thought back to the morning that he had woken up alone nearly two weeks ago. Nothing had been out of the ordinary the night before. He had gone over the timeline ad nauseam, but there had to be something missing. There _had_ to be. Scully was rational. She always thought things through, so this strange behavior had to be related to something that had happened the few days before she disappeared. Then it hit him like a punch to the gut.

William.

Scully had been so upset about William for those few days before she left, but surely she wouldn't lose her mind enough to go find him. Would she? She had never quite reached hysteria, but Mulder knew how badly her heart was aching and how upset she had been that her one and only chance to be a mother was taken from her. Even worse, it was taken from her because Mulder hadn't been able to let go of his search for the truth until it was too late. Mulder scrambled from his seat, nearly jumping across the room to where his laptop sat open on his bed searching for the adoption file stored deep in his hard drive. Monica and John looked up, startled by his sudden movements.

"What is it?" John asked appearing beside him instantly, reading the file over Mulder's shoulder. He frowned. "She wouldn't do that. She wouldn't do anything that crazy." He paused and glanced at Mulder. "She wouldn't, would she?"

"What's going on?" Monica asked, scooting to the edge of her bed and craning her neck to see the computer screen.

"She's looking for William," Mulder said, chewing his lip. "Or rather, she's found him. We have all the contact information for his case worker. She's not just trying to confuse us." He looked from John to Monica, both sharing the same shocked and confused frown.

"She wouldn't do that," Monica said, just as dubious as John had been. "That's crazy. He'll be exposed."

Mulder shook his head. "You're right. We have to stop her." His comment caused an unsettled silence to fall over the room as they all stared at the picture at the beginning of the electronic file.

"It's going to kill her," Monica said.

Mulder nodded. "It has to be done though." He closed the lid of the computer and pulled his phone out.


	16. Back On the Farm

Don't own. Just a little filler. I'll hopefully have the next chapter ready in the next few days.

* * *

"Justin, could you come up to the house?" Michael Van De Kamp's voice crackled loudly from the walkie talkie on the Justin's belt.

Frowning, Justin pulled the device from his belt and responded an affirmative to his boss. Dust had built up on his pants and his hands were grimy with sweat and dust. Scrubbing his hands on his worn-out jeans, he jumped down from the flat-bed truck he had been tossing bales of hay from. Just outside the entrance of the old storage shed sat the ATV he used going from one end of the Van De Kamp farm to the other every day. He jumped in the saddle and tore across the open pastures, arriving at the main house a little more than four minutes later. As he climbed the porch stairs, he buttoned his shirt and brushed some more dust off his Levi's with his worn-in Broncos cap.

"Hello?" he called. "Mr. Van De Kamp?"

"Back here!"

Justin followed the voice to the back of the house where he found Michael and Annie Van De Kamp sitting at the kitchen table. He took his hat off and nodded at Annie. "Ma'am."

"Sit," Michael ordered.

Justin sat across from them at the table. "What's going on?" Their faces were clouded with some sort of apprehension. The couple exchanged worried expressions.

"We have to leave for a few days," Michael said. "Something has recently…come up."

Justin raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?" As they shared another cryptic glance, Justin knew it had to do with William. "Is Will alright?" He looked around the room, searching for the young boy or any sign that something was amiss.

"William is fine," Annie assured the young farmhand. "It's just that…his birthmother is requesting to see him."

Justin's relief spread through him quickly and his shoulders drooped slightly. "Well there's nothing wrong with that," he said, smirking.

"No…" Annie began. "She is just asking a lot."

"Like visitation?" Justin asked.

"No." Michael shook his head. "Odd things. Like requesting that we meet with an FBI psychologist so William can be hypnotized to not remember meeting her."

Justin was silent as he tried to sort through the absurdity of what Michael just said. "Hypnotized?"

"She says that seeing him creates a security risk," Annie was just as confused by the ridiculousness of what they were saying.

"Then why are you going to meet her?" Justin asked, scowling deeply. The solution was obvious. Just tell the crazy woman that a meeting wasn't possible. Hadn't she asked for assurance that the adoption would remain closed?

"She was extremely desperate," Annie said. "Ruth said she could hear her pain in her voice."

Something deep in Justin's chest burned protectively. "Well, why would she give him up in the first place then?" he questioned angrily.

Annie reached across the table clamping her cool hand around Justin's tanned wrist, smiling sadly. "It wasn't like that, sweetie. She had no other choice," she hedged vaguely. "We wanted to tell you because we know William is very close to you." She paused. "He might feel more comfortable if you came with us."

Justin paused briefly, surprised by the invitation. He had worked for the Van De Kamps since he was legally allowed to and had met William when the boy was only a year and a half old. They had shared a sibling-like relationship since the boy could talk. It wasn't as if he wasn't close to the small family, but he was still caught off guard that they would ask him to go with them. This was an extremely tense situation. He could see that both Michael and Annie were not comfortable with the whole idea, but they were caring people. They wouldn't be able to say no to a woman desperate to see her child five years after being forced to give him up. If she had really been forced to give him up in the first place. He looked from Michael to Annie and back again before nodding. "Sure. This lady sounds like a crackpot though," he shrugged. "I wouldn't mind running interference if you needed me to."

"Well," Annie said relieved, smiling genuinely. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

His parents had told him that they were going to be meeting his mother only a day or two before they told Justin. William sat at the top of the stairs, listening in confusion to his parents' conversation with Justin, wondering why all the people he trusted in Wyoming were concerned for his safety. He could feel that they didn't like anything about what was going on. But William was excited. They had explained to him carefully; this trip was so that they could visit someone important in his life. He knew instantly that it was his birth mother and had spent the rest of the night staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling thinking of all the things he wanted to tell her. Starting off with how much he hated cows and how he could tell when she was really happy and really sad. He couldn't wait to see her.

His adoption was no secret. His parents never wanted him to be deceived, nor did they want him to feel that they had purposefully omitted that information. When he started kindergarten the year before, they had sat him down and talked to him about it until he fully understood what being adopted meant, and that it didn't change how they felt about him one bit. For him, the whole concept was no big deal. So he didn't live with his birth parents, what about it? He had two people that cared about him a lot, two people that he had always known as mom and dad. They would always be mom and dad, even if there was another faceless, nameless person out there that was also his mother. He knew her well enough that it didn't matter.

Several days later, William found himself in another boring town in the state of Ore…gan. Organ or something like that. He could feel that they were close to her and he could hardly contain his enthusiasm much longer. He kept asking when they were going to meet her and each time he was given vague answers about having to wait for a phone call. Justin was agitated. He didn't want to play as much as normal. His parents were concerned. Scared even. They just kept looking at each other each time Miss Ruth called.

William would show them there was nothing to be worried about. They would see. When they finally got the phone call, William would show them all that everything was fine. After he told her how much he hated cows.


	17. End of the World

A/N: It seemed rushed when I edited it. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed.

* * *

Scully's life had boiled down to living out of suitcases and subsiding on vending machine snacks for most of the day. In her hotel rooms, she suffocated. Outside she wandered aimlessly for hours, glazed eyes seeing nothing as she walked. Her nights continued to be restless; her days were driven by uncharacteristic wild energy, agitated adrenaline rushes and unhealthy amounts of caffeine. Her thoughts raced between Mulder and William, wondering mundane, commonplace questions - about the weather, or about what he was doing with all his free time - at the first and fretting whether this was worthwhile for the latter. She was beginning to get increasingly nervous; her fingers trembled even in the hours that her coffee fix should have worn off. The only activity that seemed to ease her stress was a long run, followed by an ice cold shower. It was a reflective time; the running allowed her to focus inward, and pay attention to the fluctuations in her heart beat and breathing. The shower had a similar calming effect as she felt her muscles cool of and her heart return to a normal beat. The process became a repeated cycle every day. So she ran every day. And waited.

And finally, one day, the phone rang.

She had dozed off after one of the first real lunches she had eaten in a few days, resting against the bed's head board. Her phone had never left her side and she gripped it tightly. When it rang, she sat up with a start before answering it.

"Hello?" She knew it sounded like she had been caught taking a nap. Her voice was soft and she was trying to keep all confusion out of her voice.

"Dana? It's Ruth," the lady announced. "I've arranged for a meeting to take place in a few days at the Maritime Museum." She paused waiting for the confirmation that she had gotten the message and Scully could only nod. After an uncomfortably long pause, Ruth sighed. "This is a onetime offer, Dana. You understand?"

Scully nodded again, but was able to squeak out a response verbally this time. "Yes. Yes, I understand."

"After this, you can't contact me again," Ruth reminded her. "I know what great lengths you went took to have him disappear. It's gets harder and harder with each subsequent attempt to make contact."

"I…I know," Scully's voice was stronger now. "There is too much potential for error, for overlooking an important security detail."

"Good," Ruth said. "Three-thirty, afternoon. Two days' time."

Scully hung up and felt the adrenaline stirring, finally releasing the phone and laying it on the bedside table.

It was time to run.

* * *

Mulder had attempted to contact Ruth Horner with no luck. The first time she answered the phone, she claimed she had no knowledge of a woman named Dana Scully or her son. Of course. Scully had been thorough. He should have known better. The second time, Monica tried speaking with her, hoping that her previous connection to Scully and William would have some weight. She denied ever speaking with, her as she was supposed to. Finally, Mulder tried one more time and Ruth threatened to sue him for harassment.

"Well, I guess the boys did their job right," John muttered, referring to the Lone Gunmen's role in keeping William's adoption a tightly guarded secret. Ruth had apparently worked for one of their contacts, some big dog in information security. Who knew how they had even managed making that relationship? He and Mulder were sitting on the suite's furniture outlining their problem and trying to find a way to stop Scully from making a potentially hazardous mistake.

"She's the only one who knows where William is," Mulder noted, worrying his lower lip.

"But she won't talk to any of us," John restated the obvious problem.

Mulder frowned in his direction and shook his head. "We've only got her cell number."

"We could call it in, track her location," John suggested.

Monica appeared between them both, the suite's door slamming shut in her wake. "I just did that. I've been waiting for this fax from headquarters." She handed several papers containing phone records to Mulder. John took a paper with a grid of the west coast showing a triangulated cell location hovering somewhere over Oregon. His phone was in his hand immediately. "Her phone records indicate that she's made contact with two numbers repeatedly over the last several days. Before that, since Scully has been gone, she's had three or four conversations with just as many untraceable disposable numbers. Each number coincides with a state we've followed Scully through." She flipped the stapled pages back two pages and pointed to a number they all recognized. The date matched Scully's disappearance. First contact.

"We probably don't have much time," Mulder observed.

"That's good because we're on the next flight to Portland," John said, closing and zipping his suitcase. "We'll get a car and drive from there. Skinner is ready to contact the field office there if we need any sort of assistance."

A few hours later, they found themselves traveling through the steep streets of Astoria, Oregon. The city was small, with a population to match it. It was a historic town and home to the eighties classic, _The Goonies_, and the nineties family film _Free Willy. _Aside from that, it was the same non-descript small town Scully and Mulder had found themselves frequenting with their time on the X-files, a quaint coastal town, somewhat forgotten by time. They checked into their room and made contact with Skinner, who was now tracking the movement of Ruth Horner covertly from Washington. He found her signal closer to the center of town, and guaranteed that even though the signal had been only narrowed down to a five hundred foot radius, she was camped out in the Hotel Elliott. He wished them luck and they left in search of Ruth Horner.

At the Hotel Elliot, they approached the desk with John in the lead. He pulled out his badge and flashed it at the receptionist. "My name is John Doggett, I'm with the FBI."

The young receptionist's eyes grew wide. "How may I help you today, Agent Doggett?"

"My associates and I are looking for a woman who may be staying here," he hedged slowly. "Ruth Horner."

The woman's fingers typed furiously on the keyboard. After a few seconds of clicking through the guest registry, she smiled tightly. "I can call up and see if she is in," she offered.

John smiled and nodded. "That would be great, thanks."

After a moment, she placed the phone back in the cradle and shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Agent Doggett. She's not answering. That doesn't mean that she's not there or somewhere in the hotel. Our bar is back that way." She pointed down a hallway, indicating which direction they should go in.

John thanked her and they made their way back to the bar. In the middle of the day, there weren't too many people in the bar, making it easy to spot the lone older woman idly spinning a stirring stick in her mixed drink. They approached slowly, slipping up beside her.

"Miss Horner…" Mulder started, trying to express the urgency of the situation.

"I know who you are, Agent Mulder," the woman's tired and irritated eyes swept up to meet Mulder's. She sighed heavily. "What do you want?"

Mulder hesitated, silenced by her directness. "I don't believe we've ever met," he finally managed.

The woman smiled sadly under wrinkles and lines that belied how young she really was. They showed the weight of conspiracy she had carried with her for the last several decades of her life. "I've known who you are for quite some time. It was no coincidence that William was placed in my care." She shook her head admonishingly. "I knew your father." This statement caused Mulder's skin to crawl. The people who have said that often led him down a path of trouble. "We worked together in the seventies; I helped him subvert the invasion conspiracy as much as I could. I've been working against them ever since. I met the Gunmen by accident in the early nineties. They knew I could move your son and make him disappear. You could call me an expediter with a specialization in human transportation." She suddenly seemed frail, as if breathing would shatter her into thousands of pieces.

Mulder remained silent, watching as she continued stirring her drink. He spoke his next words very slowly. "Did you set up a meeting?"

Ruth nodded forlornly. "I did."

"You know as much as I do that I can't let that meeting happen," Mulder said.

The woman's ghostly blue eyes sparkled as she smiled at Mulder. "She was desperate."

"She'll never forgive herself if something happens."

Ruth returned to her drink. "I know."

"When is the meeting?" John asked in irritation.

Ruth looked at her watch. "Twenty minutes. At the Maritime Museum across town. Better hurry."

* * *

The museum was sparsely populated. A group of school children wearing bus-shaped name tags chattered loudly, their voices echoing in the cavernous interior of the building. Scully was early. The meeting Ruth had arranged was to take place in front of the bridge of the USS _Knapp_ in about fifteen minutes. Scully had taken the opportunity to peruse the museum's maritime collection and reminisce her childhood, when the world hadn't seemed so expansive and evil. Her restlessness was starting to fade into excitement. She was so close now, she could taste it.

It was unsurprisingly bittersweet. On one hand, she would finally get to see her son, her William for the first time in six years. On the other hand, she would probably never see him again. Even if she wanted to. This whole process had been too taxing. On her nerves, on her emotions, even on her relationship with Mulder. Whatever happened after this meeting today, it wouldn't end well, of that she was certain.

She sighed heavily, staring up at the bridge of an old Navy Destroyer and running her hand across the cool metal. If she closed her eyes, she could remember days visiting Ahab at the Naval Base. He had taken Scully and her siblings onto the bridge of his ship, but the most vivid memory had been just outside the bridge, where the wind whipped her hair around wildly and she could see in miles in every direction. It was calming, and to a very young girl, the world had stood still in that moment. Scully opened her eyes a moment later, trying to hold on to that memory for as long as she could and wishing she could keep it forever.

A bench nearby the bridge looked like a good place to wait. Glancing at her watch she saw that she still had about eight minutes until the meeting. She could feel William's closeness, recognizing the sense of security that it had brought her those few months so long ago. At first, she had attributed her ability to sense danger to maternal instinct, but with years to process the sensation and knowing that it hadn't quite dulled away once he was gone, she knew they were somehow indelibly connected despite the distance between them. She glanced at her watch again.

Eight minutes.

* * *

The parking lot was nearly vacant, save for a few cars and two yellow buses at the far end. The tires of the speeding SUV screeched into the parking lot, parked crookedly between two open spaces. Mulder, John and Monica sprang from the vehicle, not wasting any time to get into the building. The trip from the Hotel Elliot took longer than they had expected; getting through town had proven to be difficult during the lunch hour.

Monica couldn't shake the violent twist in her gut. It wasn't that she expected a supersoldier to jump out of the woodwork; Scully had taken every precaution, maybe even more than were necessary, but she had gotten sloppy in her haste toward the end. Something terrible was going to happen, possibly something between Mulder and Scully, much like it had when the FBI had called on their help in the Frankenstein case they had worked several months ago. While it didn't mean the end of the world, it meant that the darkness Monica knew Scully so desperately wanted to be free of would have dropped its shadow on them again. It always did concerning the X-files. John and Monica felt it. Skinner felt it. Whatever Mulder had discovered at Mount Weather (and still kept secret from even Scully all these years later) stalked them in every aspect of their life, and here it was again, rearing its ugly head and planning its next angle of attack.

As they jogged through the parking lot, Monica's observant eyes scan over every vehicle in the parking lot. Something about the blue Ford pick-up in the first row causes her to slow and give it a once over. John and Mulder pause for a brief moment when they notice her stop, and she can hear John telling Mulder that they'll catch up, but she tunes them out for the most part. The car is a little beat up, used often for heavy work of some kind. She glances up and down the rows of parked cars and time slows because there is something about this car, a message specifically for her…

John's distant voice swirls back to normal from the deadened warble it had been and she can hear him calling her name to hurry up. They have to help Mulder. She can see that what had felt like several minutes had only been a brief hesitation because Mulder's long strides have only taken him fifteen yards away. John is pulling on her arm. Monica can see the fear in his eyes, fear for William's safety, and suddenly her feet are moving again and her hastened strides catch her up to Mulder quickly. The sinking feeling has gotten worse.

She knew where William lived.

* * *

Inside, Scully hears a commotion echoing through the cavernous museum. It's not enough to cause a reaction from the museum-goers around her, but she spent long, long months on the run; Mulder's paranoia had finally latched on. She knows it has something to do with her meeting. She wants to bolt, she wants to pull out the Smith & Wesson .38 special revolver she has stashed in her purse, she wants to pull a fire alarm, anything to distract from the little boy who was somewhere nearby in the museum. Instead she can't move her feet and her limbs suddenly feel like lead, heavy with guilt. Deep down she knows that if a supersoldier, or even a bounty hunter, was looking for her son, she would have never made it to this point. She feels her insides go hollow knowing that Mulder has finally caught up with her, and she breaks all over again.

She turns in time to see John and Mulder trot up to her, urgency in their eyes and their voices. Mulder takes her by the elbow, his fingers squeezing in earnest, a grip she hasn't felt in a long time. Their voices are hushed, and their act draws a few eyes to them. They do their best to blend in with the crowd observing the museum pieces as they make their way to the entrance. Scully is blank and Mulder's frightened words fall on deaf ears as they pretend to be reading a plaque next to one of the displays. John stands close by, interested in another piece. That's when she sees it, a flash of shaggy auburn hair and freckles framing endless blue eyes that she can see across the distance.

She knows.

Scully turns to follow the boy as another woman, scoops him up. Monica is at the woman's elbow ushering her away quickly. One word escapes Scully's lips and tears spill down her eyes. "William?" she cries out hoarsely. "William!" Her voice is barely above a whisper. She tries to run to him, but Mulder and John are at her elbows, knowing this is going to end badly.

She doesn't see, but there are tears in Mulder's eyes too.

Suddenly, Scully is causing a scene as she begins to try to fight John and Mulder off of her. William is flailing in Annie Van De Kamp's arms, calling out for his mother. Mrs. Van De Kamp's face becomes distraught when she realizes that he means the hysterical red-headed woman that looks just like her son. John and Mulder nearly have to drag Scully from the building; she thrashes wildly to get away from their grip. She pleads with them, explaining how careful she was, begging unashamedly before going slack from pure exhaustion and defeat. Outside, they pile her in the car and she collapses sobbing. Mulder barely shuts the door before he breaks down himself.


	18. Life As We Know It

So, after an excessively long hiatus and a couple of reviews asking me about a new chapter...I THINK I have the next one ready as well, but that will be a few days coming. I have to get through tomorrow and then we'll see. To those of you who have been reading this from the beginning, you're the best for sticking with it. Thanks! So without any further ado...

* * *

"I just have to be certain that neither one of us will be able to contact you again," Mulder said. His forlorn eyes were fixed on the steam rising from the white mug of coffee sitting in front of him. The hour was somewhat early, considering he hadn't slept for most of the night. Scully barely moved, staring blankly at the wall or the carpet or some other flat surface. She refused food most of the time, and Monica was struggling to get her to drink water. He had never seen her this way. She had always been so strong, and to see her so damaged had broken something inside of him as well. "Or that you can contact us," he added after a short pause.

Ruth Horner sipped from her Styrofoam to-go cup and nodded despondently. "I understand." She reached across the table and squeezed Mulder's lifeless hand, giving him a watery smile. "One day she'll remember that it's for the best. They all do."

Mulder nodded, though he was having trouble believing it at the time. "She, umm…" he cleared his throat and sniffed. "She knows. She just…she just really wanted to see him," he finished lamely.

Ruth nodded sagely. "I understand." Mulder thought that she really might from her tone of voice. "Everything is taken care, Agent Mulder," she continued, flipping closed a file of redacted papers. The picture clipped to the front of the file had been scratched out. The paper file had been the only one that made any mention about William's location. Now the information was safely stored in Ruth Horner's head. She had assured Mulder that the information would stay locked away until she died. No one would be able to know William's new identity or where he lived with his adoptive family.

Mulder watched as she stuffed the file deep into her briefcase. Soon it would disappear completely from the face of the world and William Aidan Scully's records would show that his short life ended after nine months of suffering through some horrifying genetic disorder. If Ruth was as good as she said she was, a death certificate would appear in the Virginia Department of Health's Office of Vital Records, sporting a fold and wrinkled corners for good measure, and a head stone would appear next to Emily Sim in the Mount Comfort Cemetery in Alexandria, VA.

Ruth stood and smiled again. "Agent Mulder, it's been a pleasure. I hope to never hear from you again." She leaned forward conspiratorially. "I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course." She squeezed his forearm warmly and Mulder smirked, though his eyes remained glued to the varnished tabletop. Looking at her would cement the deal and he would like to deny it for as long as he could. He didn't have the resolve in him anymore. She squeezed his arm once more and then she was gone.

William was no more.

* * *

Several hours later, Scully and Mulder were walking through their front door. The house was cleaner than when they had left. Maggie had been there again. Her nervousness had manifested in her cleaning. She was sitting at the dining room table when they stumbled through the front door, exhausted from the last several days and the emotional toll their trip had taken on them.

Mulder shut the door against the humidity and the fading sound of crunching gravel as John, Monica, and Skinner wound their way back down the driveway. Scully staggered into the living room where she dropped her suitcase by the couch. Maggie was up from the table and at her side immediately, but Scully flinched away from her. Mulder could see the hurt in Maggie's eyes as her eyes scanned her daughter's face, gaunt with too many shed tears and emotions too overwhelming to describe. Wordlessly, Scully cast a watery glance at them both before climbing the stairs and slamming the door.

"She didn't take that well," Mulder mumbled, before turning to regard Maggie.

Maggie's arms crossed over her chest and she chewed the inside of her lower lip. "I can imagine."

Mulder turned abruptly in shock. "Do you think I did the wrong thing?" he asked in disbelief.

Maggie's features softened and she shook her head. "I don't know what I think, Fox," she said, sinking down to the couch. "I think that what Dana did was rash. I think that you trying to stop her was ill-advised. But I know that William would have been in more danger." She looked up at him and smiled sadly. "I don't think anyone would have won in this situation."

Mulder dropped heavily onto the couch beside her, dropping his head into his hands. "I just don't know what to do."

Maggie's expression was pensive as she reached out to squeeze Mulder's hand. "Dana knows you were doing what you had to do, Fox. She might not forgive you today or tomorrow, or even this week. But she will."

Mulder looked up at Maggie hopefully and she met him with a reassuring smile. "You think she will?"

Maggie chuckled. "I'd like to think I know my daughter pretty well. Her anger with you is always fleeting." Mulder smiled and sat back, scrubbing his face. "You both need to eat something. I'm sure it's been quite some time since your last meal. Neither of you are good about feeding yourselves in these moments. Why don't you see if you can convince Dana to come eat something while I get it together?"

"Okay," Mulder reluctantly agreed. He climbed up the stairs slowly. At the top of the stairs, he cracked the door and saw Scully laying on the bed with her back to the door. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, covering everything in a blanket of gold light. "Scully?" he called quietly. When she didn't answer, he pushed the door open and padded quietly to the bed. He sat on the edge and placed his hand on her shoulder, but she offered no reaction. "Scully, your mom is making breakfast. You should try to eat something."

"I'm not hungry," she said. Her voice was hoarse and thick with all the tears she had shed over the past two days.

"Dana…"

She sat up quickly, turning to face him. He had never seen her so angry. "Don't," she demanded, shaking her head. "Don't do that to me, Mulder. Don't try to placate or patronize me."

"I'm not… I wasn't going to," he said.

She smiled resignedly, but the smile wasn't sincere and came off as a derisive sneer. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. She shook her head. "Fine. Whatever."

"I'm sorry," he said, his hands landing despondently in his lap. "That wasn't my intention. I promise."

Her lip quivered violently as tears gathered in her eyes.

"Oh, Scully…" he began. "It's not…"

She tapped desperately on her breastbone, enough to make a hollow thumping noise that echoed in the quiet of the morning. "He is _my_ son," she said to him, clutching her shirt over her heart, as if there was a hollow void where it was supposed to be. Angry tears burned her cheeks as they cascaded down her face. Her eyes were dark and starting to overflow with tears. "How could you do that to me, Fox?"

Whatever tears she had previously shed were nothing to what was about to happen. Mulder could tell by the anger that burned in her eyes. She had been holding back, waiting until they were in the safety of their own home to release her emotions on him. She wasn't intending to do it, but she was baiting him. Could she really not see the foolishness of her endeavor? Had she really been that desperate that it clouded her judgment concerning the safety of their son? He didn't want to take the bait, but the frustrations of chasing her across the country and finding out that she had thrown caution to the wind began to boil deep within him. It didn't take long for them to bubble up to the surface.

Mulder clenched his teeth together. He hadn't wanted it to happen this way, but they were at a point of no return, their fuses already lit and burning closer to the quick. The fact that she had used his first name showed just how deeply he had cut her. He wanted to be gentle, but they were far beyond that. He needed to tell her that William couldn't be her son anymore. He wanted to scream it at her and tell her how reckless she had been.

"And what about me? What about me, Scully?" he asked, as he felt tears rimming his own eyes and spilling over. His voice cracked with emotion. "If it wasn't for me, you would never have had William in the first place." He stepped dangerously close to her, his stance threatening. He wanted her to get mad. He wanted her to fight back. He pointed vaguely, angrily toward the window and yelled, "I put my life on the _line_, Scully! For you and for William! I did _everything_ I could to keep you both safe. This isn't just about how _you_ had to give up _your_ son. He's my son too. I supported your decision because I knew it was best for him and I've said _nothing_. This isn't about you, Scully. It's about all of us. And I can't believe you were _selfish _enough…"

He felt the sting of her fingers on his cheek without ever seeing her raise her hand at him. His head jerked sideways with the blow involuntarily and his fingers touched his tingling cheek gingerly. He looked back at her and realized just how deeply she was cut. But there was something just beneath the surface of her wrathful stare, something akin to realization.

She knew Mulder was right.

She sobbed, repeatedly saying, "No, no…sorry, sorry, sorry!" and backed up to the bed, dropping on the mattress and curling up against the headboard. Her eyes looked up at him, telling him she was livid that he had said what he did. They told him that he may have done everything, but he wasn't there when she needed him to be. And she was also right.

The sheer feeling of guilt caused him to stumble back into the wall. He slid down it as his long legs wobbled and failed and he hit the floor hard. His hands tangled themselves in his hair and he tugged at it trying to make sense of what was happening. They sat like that forever, the physical distance that separated them portraying the emotional schism that was being created between them.

Enough had been said, the damage was done. The emotional distress on both sides had caused suppressed emotions to be uncovered and put out in the open. They realized that even though they shared that strange nonverbal communication, there were still things that they had been able to hide from each other. Things like how they really felt where their son was concerned. Scully blamed Mulder and Mulder resented Scully. That much had become clear.

One more look passed between them, and it became obvious to both of them; more than anything, the situation scared them. Scully felt guilty that, even though she took the highest precautions, someone still might have been able to trace her movements to her son. She had prayed for the first time in a long time that nothing would happen to her child and she knew that she had to have faith that all would be okay.

Mulder could only think of those who would try to get William for what he was or had been at one time. He could only think about what could happen for Scully insisting to see him. He looked at her from across the room. He had never seen her so broken. It felt like an ice cold hand was squeezing his heart, knowing that this was how she looked after giving up their son. She had needed Mulder and he hadn't been there. He knew the truth to the whole situation was simple, even if he didn't want to admit it. If he hadn't left, William wouldn't have either. His hands fell limply at his sides and he willed his voice to speak through the large lump in his throat. "Scully, I…" His croaking voice trailed off and he shook his head.

"Get out, Mulder," she said quietly from the bed.


	19. Fate

So I think I have one more chapter ready, and then after that, there should only be one or two more posts. And sorry if there are break lines every where...the document editor is being weird.

* * *

The yelling startled Maggie, causing her to almost drop the carton of eggs on the floor. Dana and Fox were always bickering about something, but they rarely raised their voices above a normal volume. The voice belonged to her daughter, full of more emotion than she had ever heard.

Dana hadn't been one to raise her voice as her children were growing up. They all yelled at each other eventually, but Dana had always been the last one to lose her resolve. Most of the time, her anger was directed at Bill Jr. They had butted heads from the time they were both able to talk. But Maggie had never heard this tone before. This was something different. The emotion was raw and vulnerable, so sharp that it Maggie felt like an ice cold blade was twisting in her stomach.

She padded quietly to the bottom of the stairs where she could hear both Dana and Fox reaching the ends of their frayed nerves. Dana's sobs were loud enough to reach Maggie's ears downstairs. The sound shattered her heart.

"_How could you do that to me, Fox?_"

Tears welled in Maggie's eyes. There was a long silence and she knew that had fallen into their eerie silent communication until Fox began mumbling incoherently. When his voice finally rose, she could hear the tears in his voice. Maggie was concentrating too hard to keep her own crying quiet, but she heard pieces about how he had done everything he could to protect them both. Suddenly, the sharp sound of skin colliding rang through the house and everything fell silent for a long time.

Maggie had to pull herself away from the bottom of the stairs, almost crawling to the couch and landing heavily on the worn cushions. Fox would never lay a hand on Dana, so she knew that whatever he had said struck a chord with her. It was certainly something she didn't appreciate him saying. How would she ever handle this situation? Dana was her daughter, but Fox had wrapped her around his finger as well. He was as much her son as Bill Jr. and Charlie were. She could not bear to see either suffering as much as they were. Dana was right; losing a child was much different than having to give him away. Maggie could only imagine what they were going through, and she could not say that she would handle the situation better than they were.

Several long minutes later, Mulder bounced down the stairs. His eyes were wet and a red welt was growing on his left cheek. He stopped when he saw Maggie's dolorous expression. He shook his head. "I, um…" he sighed and his shoulders slumped wearily.

"You don't have to say anything, Fox," Maggie assured him. "There is no simple explanation."

He met her gaze and motioned half-heartedly up the stairs. "I didn't hit her," he assured her flatly. "I wouldn't ever…"

Maggie nodded and tried to smile, her eyes sliding over the welt on his face. "I know you didn't. I know."

Fox nodded and cleared his throat. "She's probably going to need you." Before Maggie could respond, he was out the door.

* * *

They had spoken about fate once. Maggie remembered it clearly.

"_Did Fox enjoy England?" Maggie asked as she filled the tea pot with water._

_Dana's eyes were far away. She was deep in thought, some happy memory from the past few days since they had last spoken. It probably had something to do with the giddy smile that was hiding beneath her solemn expression. "I believe so." She was silent for a long moment. "Mom, do you believe in fate?"_

_Maggie frowned pensively and turned to face her daughter, bracing her hands on the edge of the stove behind her. "I believe that God has a plan for all of us."_

_Dana frowned in response, as if the answer was acceptable, but didn't quite answer her question fully. It didn't matter; she was on to the next topic before Maggie could ask her why she wanted to know. "I saw…I saw Dan…Dr. Waterston while Mulder was gone. He was in the hospital for heart problems of all things…the renowned cardiologist has an unhealthy heart." Her eyes were vacant again, but they were dark. Like she was remembering a time of her life she would much rather forget. She looked up and sent Maggie a watery smile and shook her head in disbelief. "It was one small mix-up in the hospital that sent me to his bedside. One small mix-up that forced me to face my past discretions and realize that, even though I wanted one thing, I'm destined for something else."_

_The lines on Maggie's forehead deepened as she frowned in distaste. "And that's your fate?" she asked dubiously. "To not have the things you wanted?"_

_Dana nodded slowly. "I think that everything happens for a reason; that seemingly discrete events in our lives coalesce into something greater than what we have planned for ourselves." The smile was hiding behind her features again, as if her mouth just wanted to smile on its own accord and she couldn't stop it, and she turned mirthful eyes at Maggie. It amazed her that Dana was able to keep a straight face on top of whatever giddiness she was feeling inside. "Mulder and I will always be connected, Mom. No matter what happens, we're fated to each other…"_

There was a series of choices people made that led them to a specific place at a specific time, Dana had explained. If Maggie Scully was certain about one thing, it was the fact that her daughter was right. She was inextricably connected to her partner. There was a magnetism between them, something that drew them to each other no matter how far apart they were. They could always find each other. On the outside, someone might call it true love, something from a fairy tale, but Maggie knew better. It was something more complicated than that. Love was certain, but the implicit trust they put in each other was what truly made their relationship special. Their relationship was rooted in trust; if ever that trust was violated, they both might stop breathing. They clung to each other as if letting go meant the imminent death of the other or themselves. Their eyes constantly found each other in a crowded room. A hand on the small of her back or at her elbow, a gentle squeeze to remind her that he was there. Her hand found its way into his at the dinner table, or a well-placed kissed to his knuckles, cheek or forehead when they thought no one was looking.

She wouldn't claim to understand them. Because for as much love as they had for each other (it often made her heart swell), they were abusive to each other in ways that she would never venture to explain, but that was the glue that held them together. They used their relationship against each other, knowing full well that walking away from the other was the worst thing that would ever happen to them. The threat of abandonment worked every time because they would be lost without each other. At some unknown point, Fox had become Dana's reason for existence. When he was away, it was like oxygen was slowly seeping from the room and she was suffocating without him and vice versa.

They beat each other up intellectually, creating another confusing component to their abusive relationship, but they thrived on it. Maggie had never seen as much passion pass between two people who were fighting. They lusted for each other publically during holidays with family. Something would spark a debate between Dana's rationality and Fox's blind acceptance and soon they were lost to themselves, leaving an uncomfortable audience to watch as they grew closer and closer to ripping each other's clothes off the more heated their argument became.

More often than not, they couldn't stand each other. They drove each other crazy with their personality quirks. He shuts off when the Knicks play; she still couldn't sit through a whole baseball game. He still didn't know how to squeeze a tube of tooth paste; she hung the toilet paper roll backward. Sometimes Maggie could swear that they fussed over frivolous details just to have a fight. That's where they were most comfortable with each other and so in love with the other's passion.

And it made Maggie jealous. She was jealous of the level of trust they had. She was jealous of the passion with which they did everything to, for, against each other. She was jealous that only a select few relationships ever grow into what they have. Because if she was certain about one thing, she was certain that they would never be able to exist without each other.

Someone would crack soon. Then maybe things would go back to normal.


End file.
